In Search of Hermione
by AzaleaBlue
Summary: Pureblood-Slytherin Hermione is rescued by the Order Amidst a capture, a war, and dubious loyalties, she falls in love with the Gryffindor warrior assigned to keep her safe; only, he hates everything about her.Burdened with her past and struggling to rediscover herself and her loyalties, will she be able to win his heart, or will the war tear them apart forever?[Multiple Awards]
1. The Unwanted Task

**Author Notes:**

This story was nominated under the **Most Intriguing Plot category** in **Romione Awards,2015**. And this year too it has received two nominations, **Best Multi-Chapter Fic** and **Most Intriguing Plot** in the **Romione Awards,2016** on **Tumblr**. Heartfelt thanks to the reader(s) who submitted this story for the Award.

Edit: **In Search of Hermione** **won all the categories it was nominated under and was announced the Best Overall Fic 2016. Heartfelt thanks to all my readers who read and voted for this story. Thank you all so much!**

...

 **Please take the time to read**

 _ **Timeline:**_

 _This story begins after the fight at the Department of Mysteries and Sirius's death, just at the beginning of their summer holidays before their Sixth Year._

 _At the beginning of this story Dumbledore is still alive, and so is Snape and everyone else who died in the final War._

 _ **Disclaimer: **_

_This story is strictly AU. And I completely understand that quite a few scenarios appearing here could not have happened in our beloved series. The characters will be different from their original selves._

 _It's rated M not only because of some serious smut but also because I will be experimenting with the darker aspects of human nature in this story._

 _ **Variation from Canon:**_

 _ ***** Hermione belongs to an elite Pureblood family, and after a much internal debate by the Sorting hat between Ravenclaw and Slytherin has been sorted into the later. Although she will retain most of her canon characteristics like being brilliant and bookish, she will also display some very aristocratic, Pureblood, snobbish traits true to her house._

 _ ***** Ron's will not exactly be OOC, but his Sixth-year self will be more mature/broody than in the books and the reason will come to light in due course._

 _ ***** For all the Trio's feats that have included Hermione's brilliance from year 1-5, Luna (still a Ravenclaw) will have done those, from solving the logical puzzle while saving the Sorcerer's Stone to brewing the polyjuice, from finding out about the basilisk to saving Sirius with the time-turner. Let's forget the getting petrified part shall we please? Just assume they managed without Hermione somehow (I've told you it's AU remember?)._

 _In short, please expect people and situations to be different from as they are in the books._

 **All Characters belong to JKR.**

 **EDIT: I am editing the whole story for errors now, one chapter at a time. As I finish editing a chapter, the title will be underlined, so you know. (Not having a beta sucks big time!)**

* * *

 **Chapter 1: The Unwanted Task**

The door banged shut, not very lightly either, as Ron entered the kitchen holding a Quaffle under his arms, his flaming hair windswept, sweat soaked t-shirt sticking onto his chest.

Molly turned around from the oven to glance at her youngest son, and with her brows furrowed in concern, went back to opening a packet of sausages and dropping them onto the sizzling hot pan. The sound of a chair scraping sounded behind her and she spoke without taking her eyes off the food.

"You are not sitting at the breakfast table like that, Ron."

"Mum- " he grumbled, and for a brief minute, she wondered when his voice had deepened so much.

"I said, _no,_ " she responded sternly, he was still her boy after all. "Go, take a shower and then you may have breakfast," she instructed, her tone softening ever so slightly this time.

It had been a few weeks since Sirius had died, and though she did not approve of the stunt the kids had pulled by going to the Ministry by themselves, she couldn't help feel saddened about how much they had been forced to grow up at such a young age.

She heard him grumble inaudibly for a second and then push back the chair roughly before he stomped his ever growing feet on the staircase as he went up. Any other day and she would have called him back and lectured him about proper behaviour but she could not bring herself to do it anymore. Their most recent loss was still hanging heavy over all of them, and Ron looked particularly forlorn ever since he had got back from school. Her instinct had immediately been to sit with him for a talk, but Arthur had held her back.

"He is growing up Molly. Let him deal with it himself," he had said. She wasn't exactly convinced and had still made a couple of unsuccessful attempts before grudgingly accepting defeat, and agreeing to heed to her husband's words. At least, Harry was arriving later that night with Dumbledore, she hoped the two boys getting together would help them both.

Pulling away from her thoughts, she got busy with the eggs and the toasts as the rest of the family slowly stumbled down the stairs for the first meal of the day.

...

"An Order meeting at the Grimmauld Place?" he asked, lifting himself up to rest on his side. His furrowed brows hid under his fringe as he eyed his best friend, who was sitting on the spare bed untying his shoe lace, having had arrived an hour back.

"Yeah..." replied Harry solemnly, and Ron could pick up the reluctance in his voice.

"I thought we were avoiding the place after, you know, Kreacher," he said uncomfortably. Harry hadn't mentioned Sirius's death but the despair of the unfortunate event still hung in the very aura of his person.

"Dumbledore has personally reset and strengthened the wards, and he made me question Kreacher to see if he has disclosed anything. Apparently, he kept quiet about this one thing at least. I had to order him to keep mum about everything that happens or has happened there, " he said, his bitterness for the mangy old elf evident in every word.

Ron eyed his best mate and dropped back on the bed.

"What now mate?" he asked softly, watching the Chudley Canon players zoom in and out in the frayed poster overhead and hearing Harry shuffle and adjust himself in his bed.

"Dumbledore said he'll give me some lessons this year and... I don't know..." Harry answered back.

"Private lessons with Dumbledore, bloody awesome," he replied eagerly, hoping to cheer his best mate up with his enthusiasm. It really was a choice _many_ would kill for.

"Yeah, I guess," replied Harry but without much cheer.

The boys remained silent for a long time as the candle flickered and eventually died down.

"Ron?" Harry said after a long while. He had almost forgotten he wasn't alone.

"Yeah?"

"What's wrong?"

Harry could almost sense Ron stalling as he fidgeted in the bed which creaked under his weight.

"I am not sure what you are talking about mate," he responded eventually, hidden in the darkness of the room.

Harry took in a deep breath contemplating whether to confront him or not. After a while, he turned to his side to face the other bed.

"I know something happened before we left for the Ministry that day, Ron," he said hoping Ron would not feign sleep. "I'd have to be blind not to notice how you changed within a few days from being the happy carefree Ron I knew to _this,_ " he indicated towards his best mate, just about making out his hand; the night seemed unnaturally dark.

"I thought you were busy with You-Know-Who. I didn't realise you were crushing on me instead," Ron replied in mock seriousness and then let out a small laugh. A smile found his way to Harry's lips easily, and he found himself unsuccessful of cutting down the chuckle that escaped him.

"Crushing on you?" he said mimicking the sound of puking for effect.  
"Who am I, Lavender Brown?" he asked feeling suddenly better by being a part of something that was more natural for his age.

"Lav-Lavender Brown? Where did she come from?"

"Oh come on, Ron!" he grinned easily this time, "She has been eyeing you all year! Even _I_ noticed it!"

"Woah... I never knew... I guess..." he stammered, his voice much less playful now than before. He paused and sucked in a deep breath.

"Hang on! How do you know she has been eyeing me? Does that mean _you_ 've been watching _her_ too? _Apart from Cho, I mean?_ Blimey mate, how many are you eyeing simultaneously?!" he laughed aloud, "Well, you might give it a try. At least she won't cry if you snog her," he added chortling.

"Very funny, Ron," replied Harry in a false hurt tone before he too burst out laughing. It felt good, a small light in his dark life, perhaps, but something he desperately needed after Sirius.

The moon set over the horizon as the sound of their laughter broke the silence of the night.

* * *

The next evening found the members of the Order of Phoenix gathered around the table in the dining area of the old Black House.

Waiting for their leader, the group sat together discussing and updating each other on the Orders plans while Harry stood apart.

"You okay there?" asked Ron softly, and as Harry turned around, he was handed a bottle.

"Firewhiskey disguised as butter beer. George got it. Drink it up," whispered the ginger softly, eying his mother who was sitting at the far end with Tonks.

Harry took a gulp and let the fiery liquid numb his senses for a while. "Thanks," he muttered looking at Ron who raised his own bottle of real butterbeer and took a sip.

"Thought you might need it," he said wiping his lips with the back of his sleeves.

"Yeah..."

"What is all this about?" asked Ron taking a look around the room. "I thought they wouldn't allow us in the meetings."

"No clue. But I guess something is happening. Dumbledore specifically asked the two of us to be present today." The two best friends looked at each other, each completely clueless as the other when a knock suddenly sounded from the main door.

..

The door to the kitchen opened, and Dumbledore appeared followed by Kingsley and Lupin. Just before the Auror turned and shut the door behind him, Ron could distinctly make out another figure cross the corridor outside. Before he could so much as turn around and whisper it to Harry, however, Dumbledore's eyes met his over the old wizard's half-moon glasses, and to Ron's immense surprise, he found a hint of a smile in that bearded face. For reasons unknown to himself, he kept quiet, waiting for Dumbledore to speak.

A hurried shuffling of chairs and papers ensured, and the wizards and witches all settled down quickly to take their places as Dumbledore took the chair at the head of the table.

Ron found himself squeezed between Harry and Lupin, and just like everybody else, he watched the headmaster curiously. His mother was sitting a few places ahead and he could just make out her frown as she eyed them- two under-aged boys in a group of older and more experienced Order members.

"Kingsley?" gestured Dumbledore, and the dark-skinned wizard nodded once before turning towards the anxious group of onlookers.

"We have called this urgent meeting because something important has happened yesterday, something that the Ministry and the Prophet wish to keep under the wraps," stated Kingsley in that characteristic deep voice of his.

The door opened again and this time, Snape entered and took a vacant seat between Arthur and Kingsley. Ron was left wondering why the Potions master had come in late since it was obvious from what he had seen that the man had come along with Dumbledore minutes earlier. He turned around and watched Harry furrow his brows apparently thinking the same as there had been no sound of the main door this time around.

Harry looked took a few steadying breaths as he watched Snape walk casually into Sirius' house. All the pain he had been struggling to keep within him was threatening to leap out but then Kingsley began speaking and he pulled himself away to concentrate on the present.

"One of the elite Pureblood couples, the Grangers, who were supposedly providing generous funding to the Dark Side and their daughter have been murdered in their own Mansion in Southampton," continued the Auror grimly and sounds of gasps echoed around the room. Harry turned to face Ron and was surprised to find him freezing for a brief minute before the redhead met his eyes and shrugged dismissively. News of death was becoming a commonplace since Voldemort's appearance weeks back. Only, in this case, the dead were from the enemy camp and he knew one of the victims.

Hermione Granger was in their year, and quite obviously a Slytherin. She was also the brightest in their class and extremely proud of her superior intelligence. Though Harry couldn't recall her taking part in the sneers and jibes Malfoy loved to hurl at them, she was only slightly better, choosing to spend her time with the comparatively silent girl, Daphne Greengrass. The duo was famed to be the ones who spend the majority of their days in the library, but it did not decrease their high headed, snobbish attitude for belonging to the elite Pureblood society. Granger had also drawn great attention by attending the Yule Ball with Victor Krum. It had caused quite a sensation during their fourth year.

"She-" Harry began but was stopped with a look from Dumbledore. Kingsley continued.

"The local story is that the kitchen fire went out of hand and burnt down the place while the family was sleeping. But that is really a lame cover. We are sure Fiend Fire was used on the Mansion."

"Now the question here is, why would Voldemort murder one of his own men?"

"Betrayal perhaps?" offered Tonks looking around.

"The Dark Lord required some special service from them which the Grangers denied," provided Snape in his deliberate slow drawl.

" _Special service_?" questioned Molly looking repulsed.

"He wanted the daughter to join ranks, although for what purpose is known only to the Dark Lord himself. Extremely brilliant though she is, she is still under-aged, and hence still under the Trace," answered the Potion master.

"Wait you just said, 'she is'! _Does that mean?_ " interjected Tonks and the eyes turned towards Dumbledore.

For reasons he could not clearly fathom, Harry realised Ron was fidgeting uncomfortably next to him.

"She is alive, yes," answered Dumbledore, and gentle murmuring ensued. Harry wondered if Ron was trying to escape from next to him.

"And _that_ is the reason for this meeting. We have been able to rescue Miss Granger before the fire hit her room. As it is, the cursed fire leaves no trace, there won't be any bodies left to recover from the site, so her escape from death is well hidden from Voldemort. But she needs to be kept safe, hidden and cared for."

"Is she here?" questioned Arthur.

"Yes, for now..." provided the Headmaster.

"Poor dear..." whispered Molly, and this time, Harry was sure he saw Ron flinch next to him.

"I guess I'll..." began the Weasley matriarch, half rising from her chair, Harry assumed, perhaps to fix a meal, but she was stopped mid sentence by Dumbledore himself.

"No Molly not you."

The older witch looked sceptically at the wizened old man but took her seat anyway.

"You all need to know that she has been put upstairs in the third floor's second bedroom. Severus has put up special wards around it. It is not just to keep her safe, it's also to avoid her risking an escape. Although she does know her life is at risk, she might not take kindly to be rescued by the Order. As such, I don't wish her to know more about us, just yet."

The group looked on at their leader, clearly clueless with where he was going with it.

"But she still needs to be taken care of, and that is why I have asked the two of you to join us today," he said indicating the two of them and they stared at each other, stunned. Ron was looking positively ill.

"Albus, you can't be serious! The boys... I mean..." began a flabbergasted Molly, looking scandalised with the suggestion.

Dumbledore smiled, watching her over his half-moon spectacles with a hint of something Harry could only describe as mysterious in his eyes.

"Molly dear, trust me. It's all for the best. This is one responsibility Ron will have to take."

"NO!"

Harry watched Ron scramble up the chair, extracting his long legs from under the table and push the chair back as he got up.

"Professor Dumbledore Sir, I... I can't! I-I won't!" he stammered, obviously uncomfortable as all eyes turned towards him. Harry could distinctly make out his ears turning red to almost match his hair.

"Well, I knew you are putting too much trust on Ronald Weasley, Headmaster," sneered Snape, and Harry pulled Ron's arms to shove him back into the chair. His own blood was shooting to his head. Although he desperately wanted to punch that sneer off that oily face, it wouldn't do lose their temper here and drop this chance of getting more involved in the Order's business.

"I am putting my trust on him because I know he is the best man for this job, Severus," replied the old man calmly, and Harry loved watching Snape frown, visibly annoyed at the very public scorning by the Headmaster.

"Now, if you boys will follow me, please?" he called and pushing back his chair, left the table and opened the door. " Just the boys," he added as Molly Weasley glanced helplessly at her husband.

Keeping his eyes trained on his mentor's back, Harry followed Dumbledore up the stairs, while Ron followed behind him, grumbling under his breath and dragging his feet. Once they reached the third floor, Dumbledore took them inside a smaller room and took his place in a rickety armchair, while the two of them sat down on the facing couch which had quite a few springs peeking out of it.

"I understand you are not very happy with this arrangement. May I know the reason?" he asked Ron.

Ron fumbled for a bit, but then perhaps the daunting prospect of the task he was assigned made him overcome any embarrassment he felt for his earlier behaviour.

"Because she is from Slytherin and... because I don't wish to do it," he responded firmly.

"The houses mean nothing outside school Ron."

"But I don't-"

"You don't wish to be part of the Order then?"

"Of course I do! " he replied incredulously and looked between him and their teacher.

"Then?" asked Dumbledore softly.

"I... "

"During times as these, we are often forced to do things we don't particularly like. Doesn't mean the tasks are any less important or that we are incapable of them. I guess I do owe you an explanation for the importance of this."

Harry and Ron looked on while Dumbledore continued patiently, his arms placed on the armrest casually.

"You both know, Miss Granger is an extremely brilliant witch. And it's her brain that is both her asset and enemy now. If I could change fate, I would have wished for her to be on our side, but born in the family she was, there wasn't much we could do about her being a part of the wrong side. Voldemort knows of her abilities and is sure she will be a valuable asset in the upcoming war. He realised he could use her skills to his benefit. You will get to know what he wished of her in due time.

However, for whatever reasons they must have had, her parents refused to let her into his ranks, and I will be eternally grateful to them for it. They both paid with their lives for that bit of disobedience, though," he nodded sadly.

"Now, she is alone, orphaned and out of her safe zone. She needs to realise that she still has people who can care for her if given a chance. And the dark side is not where she belongs. If we can change her heart and bring her to our side it will be a huge blow for Voldemort. But that won't be easy considering the values she has imbibed and will require immense work. I believe it will be easy for her to get accustomed if someone of her own age can help her there. Can I trust you with this responsibility, Ronald?"

Ron looked like he was expecting Dumbledore to let him go. He grunted softly, "Why not Mum or Tonks?" he asked like a stubborn child.

"Because I don't wish to compromise on her education. Once school starts, she will need to finish her education if she has to be prepared for this war. She will need someone to get her the lessons and assignments. Although the teachers will all know about her taking the classes, she won't be able to attend them herself as she is dead to the world and for her safety, it's of utmost importance we keep it that way."

"How will she attend school without anyone knowing?" asked Harry before he could stop himself.

"Well, we have created a separate chamber attached to your dormitory which only the two of you will be able to access."

Ron looked like he would faint.

"Why can't Harry do it?! You said it will be accessible to both of us," he pleaded, perhaps knowing completely well that Dumbledore wouldn't back down and he would have to do it anyway.

"Because Harry will be busy helping me with something else," Dumbledore replied cryptically, and the boys glanced at each other.

"And for this task, he is only your backup during any unavoidable situation. Even then, he will pretend to be you when meeting her. Technically, you are the only person she will see till we are sure of her alliance."

Harry who was watching his best mate wondered if Ron was beginning to get a headache, he sure looked ill. But he seemed to have accepted his fate, albeit a lot grudgingly.

Dumbledore looked at Ron for a long time and then raised himself up.

"Your mission starts from now. You and Harry will stay here for the rest of the summer. The wards of her room will allow you in, but no one else. I think I'll ask Molly to get the poor girl something to eat now and you can take it to her," he finished, and with a swipe of his purple robes, left the room to go downstairs.

"Fuck it all!" groaned Ron kicking the foot of the armchair the Headmaster had just occupied, but only after the old man's footsteps had almost died down.

* * *

 ** _A/N:_**

 ** _Thank you so much for reading!_**

 ** _I am really looking forward to that review of yours to know this story of mine is worth the time I am putting into it._**


	2. Struggling Hard

**A/N: Heartfelt thanks to all of you who reviewed, followed and favourited this story right after the first chapter. It was a great motivation because this is one of my 'scary' ideas which will require an immense amount of work to get it right. Your feedback at each step is not just anticipated but extremely appreciated. Thank you!**

 **I just made an error in the assumption when I said Luna would have helped save the Sorcerer's Stone because she is a year junior to the trio. Let's assume she is in the same year, please?**

* * *

 **All character rights belong to JKR, I write because I love sharing my imaginary world with you all.**

 **Chapter 2: Struggling Hard**

Fiery dragons swooped down from great heights while the serpents that were coiled around her ankles rose steadily upwards as she struggled to set herself free. It was her own screams that woke her up.

The room was much too dark and way too small to be hers. Struggling to steady her breath, she blinked rapidly to clear her vision of the horrifying images that still seem to linger just below her eyelids. Locks of her curly mane stuck to her forehead and ran down her back in messy curls while sweat dripped down her fair neck soaking the peach pink satin nightgown at the lace on her chest.

Her vision cleared partially, adjusting to the feeble light and finally she could make out the covers that were tangled around her feet. She heaved a sigh of relief but then panic took hold of her again. The bed was definitely not her's and neither was this room a part of their Mansion.

 _Where was she?_

Hermione fumbled around for her wand, first on the bed, and then, extricating herself from the grip of the covers, on the small bedside table. Fear intensified as the reliable piece of wood was nowhere to be found. She fumbled down, slipping on her slippers that were placed next to the bed, and in the dim light of the few candles in the candle brackets high up in the wall, began searching around the room.

Never in her life had she been to someplace that was remotely similar. A large old wardrobe stood near a lone closed window with long, dark drapes. With trembling hands, she pulled apart the handles and the cupboard opened with a loud, creepy, creaking noise. The inner cavity was huge and woefully empty, and smelt of neglect and age. She felt around the racks, scrunching up her nose disdainfully at the fine layer of dust and closing it back groped over the small low table beside it. Still, nothing. There was only one other piece of furniture in the room, a wooden desk. Just like the wardrobe, this too was old and empty.

Horribly depressed and quite a bit panicked at her vulnerability, she went back to the bed and slumped down.

 _Where was she? Why couldn't she remember anything?_

She looked around again and closed her eyes shut, willing herself to remember _something_ that would explain this sudden change of location. However, the last thing she could remember was having dinner with her parents at her home.

...

Her Father had looked unnaturally grave and Mother was visibly distressed, hardly touching the fabulous meal the house-elves had provided. She watched her parents curiously, and wanted to voice her concerns, but refrained. It was bad manners for well breed young girls like herself to question elders without being granted the permission first. So, she quelled her curiosity and went back to the food, hoping one of them would say something and noticing her parents exchange troubled glances at each other.

"Hermione,"

Her father's voice made her lift her eyes up, and she gently placed her knife and fork down and wiped her mouth with the napkin before quickly to turn at him.

"Yes, Father?"

She could sense the discomfort in his voice, the internal debate to decide how much to confide in his daughter.

"Until you leave for school on September first, I want you to keep to your wing,"

She hoped her disappointment didn't show on her face. She had been looking forward to the tea party at Daphne's the coming week, and also the shopping trip to France her mother had planned. _What had she even done to deserve a lock down?_

"Yes, Father," she replied politely instead with downcast eyes, not caring to pick up her spoon and finish her pudding.

"Under no circumstances, will you leave the Mansion, and Henry and William will be on guard outside at all times. I don't even want you wandering off to the main library at night time. Transfer all books you need to your personal library today itself. Is that clear?" he asked in a voice that did not leave any scope for questions or arguments anyway.

"Yes, Father," she answered in a quieter voice, suddenly finding it very difficult to remain seated and behave like all was well. But she neither questioned nor argued with her parents; she just wasn't brought up that way.

"Alright, finish your meal and off you go."

She left after bowing them a goodnight and not looking at their faces. It was the only bit of misbehaviour she allowed herself to show her hurt.

The two men had followed her to the library and back. Silent and dark sentinels who stood guard just beyond the huge doors that marked the entrance to her Wing. Of course, they closed huge doors shut with magic.

Within the confines of the walls, feeling like a prisoner in her own home and for reasons she couldn't even comprehend, she allowed her polite, indifferent mask to fall and grumbled softly under her breath. She dropped off the books on the large ornate table and walked briskly away to her bedroom.

Anne, her personal maid, was waiting as usual for their night time routine. Hermione was helped out of her elaborate robes into the night-gown, and the young lady stood behind and brushed her long brown tresses till they were all shiny and perfectly curled. Smiling with satisfaction, the young witch begged for her leave even as Hermione remained seated at her dresser, gloomy and silent.

Finally, letting out a deep sigh, she left for the next room that housed her enormous collection of books. And perhaps that was where she had fallen asleep till she opened her eyes in this dark, creepy place a while ago.

She couldn't help feeling petrified. Something was definitely wrong, and this change of events proved her father's concern true. She felt a little guilty for her behaviour now that she thought about it but the main question here was- _Why was she here?_

 _Had she been captured?!_

She gulped down hard at the thought. Maybe she _was_ kidnapped. That would explain her missing wand and her father's fears for what she now realised was her safety. But this was nothing like the dungeon in their Mansion. The place was not much to her standards, but it looked homely at the very least. A small ray of hope rose in her heart. Perhaps her father had her shifted away? But then, there should have been someone around, and honestly, this place wasn't exactly up to standards to belong to the Granger Family. Additionally, it didn't explain her missing wand either.

Gathering her wits and steeling her jittery nerves, she looked around. There were a couple of doors, one to the left of the bed and another straight ahead. She tried the second one first. It was locked, not that she expected otherwise but her heart fell nonetheless.

Now she was sure whoever had brought her here had done so against her Father's wishes. He might restrict her to her Wing, but he wouldn't lock her inside a tiny room without any of her belongings.

She tried the other door and it opened with a soft click. The joy she felt at the accomplishment died in a moment. It was only a washroom. A claw-footed black bath sat in the centre, a black marble sink and similar coloured toilet. It was small but thankfully spotlessly clean. She closed the door and made her way back to bed.

She reckoned that her kidnapper would at least come down to give her meals. The room they had kept her in suggested that they weren't planning to starve her to death anyway. If only she could get her wand back, she might risk an escape. She was still under-aged and so any magic from her would trigger an alert to the Ministry. That, she decided would be good enough to act as a signal to her father about her location.

Hermione pulled herself on the bed and resting her back on the headrest, pulled her knees close to her body for warmth. Then she waited for a sound, a signal, something, _anything_...

...

By the time Harry and Ron reached the kitchen again, the smell of Mrs Weasley's famous chicken soup was wafting up making Harry go hungry again. Most of the members had left except for Kingsley and Tonks who sat discussing something at the table. Kreacher too had disappeared somewhere.

Ron pulled a chair roughly and sat down, look of annoyance fixed firmly on his face and Harry joined him, passing a weak smile at Tonks and Kingsley.

"Come on Ron, cheer up. A task for the Order at sixteen, that's impressive!" cheered Tonks but Ron's frown deepened further.

"Some task," he grumbled. "Babysitting a snobbish, irritating Slytherin with pro-Pureblood supremacy ideas, fantastic!" he added sarcastically under his breath, but loud enough for Harry to catch it.

"Shouldering the responsibility to keep someone safe in times like these is a big thing, Ronald. It's neither a task for the weak-hearted, nor a trivial job as you think it is. You should be proud Dumbledore trusted you with it," commented Kingsley seriously, and although Ron still huffed in response, Harry noticed his ears redden at the compliment.

Mrs Weasley came in with a tray laden with food at that precise moment, her face clearly indicating that she neither agreed with the Auror's words nor thought highly of this arrangement. But the smell of her cooking drew his eyes to the table and he noticed that the tray had enough food to feed at least three hungry teen-aged boys. Slices of bacon and eggs, soup, bread and cheese, and a large portion of the beef roast they had had for dinner. He assumed she had gotten some from the Burrow while they were upstairs for this place wasn't stocked up with rations. They didn't need it to be stocked after Sirius' death. The thought threatened to open his bottled up frustrations and he looked at the others to distract himself.

Kingsley had pulled out a couple of phials from his robes and placed them on the tray beside the food.

"Calming Drought and a Dreamless Sleeping Potion," he said showing Ron the labels. "Better to keep some at hand, she might need it."

Ron looked least interested.

"She'll need some basic things, won't she?" inquired Tonks looking between Molly and Kingsley.

"I'll get some Ginny's things for the time being, and then maybe we can buy something from Diagon Alley," suggested Molly thoughtfully. She glanced at the door leading out to the staircase and Harry could almost see her itching to go upstairs and see Granger for herself.

"The school will provide a grant for her, her vault will be all sealed now with the news of their death," Kingsley informed them and both the witches nodded solemnly.

"Let me see, I might get a couple of my stuff too and we could transfigure it to fit her." piped up Tonks, and rushing to the floo, was gone in a flash.

"I suppose we should take the tray upstairs." suggested Molly finally and cast a warming spell on the food again.

"Just a minute, Molly." said the Auror and turned towards Ron.

"There are a few things you ought to know before you see her," he said and Ron glanced at him, his expression somewhere between helplessness and submission to a particularly unpleasant fate.

Kingsley, however, spoke in a firm business tone as if he was briefing one of his junior recruits at work.

"We found her in her library of their Mansion. She was asleep and was kept in that state when we got her here. Powerful wards have been set over this house and also the room above. However, she doesn't know where she is or how she got here. She doesn't even know about her parents' death. Although, I personally think it would have been prudent for Dumbledore to have told her that, for some strange reason known solely to him, he wishes Ron to break the news to her."

Harry turned instantly at Ron to find him staring back at the Auror in shock, an expression very similar but with quite a mix of rage visible in his mother's face.

"I...T-That is preposterous!" managed Molly. Harry was sure she was struggling to control her rage.

" _How on earth does Albus expect Ron or Harry to handle a situation like this?!" she screeched._ "Moreover, how does he expect that poor girl to cope with all this change by keeping her locked in like a prisoner?" she added indignantly.

"I don't care what he says, I am going upstairs. The poor child needs a mother," she declared finally and almost picked up the tray to walk away.

Harry turned at Ron and was sure he saw his best mate give out a relaxed sigh at his mum's words, the corner of his lips curling ever so slightly into a grin.

Kingsley stood up too. With a flash the door leading out of the kitchen closed shut locking Molly in, the food-laden tray still on her hands.

"Molly, we trust Dumbledore and do what he says. You know the deal," he said with ultimate finality, and although Harry had hoped the fiery witch would challenge the Auror, she stood and contemplated for a while, and then, with the signs of a lost soldier, put the tray back down on the table.

But the fire was back in her eyes immediately as she turned at her youngest son, and Harry couldn't help but cringe a little.

"Ronald Weasley, you will be at your best behaviour during your task," she stated, her eyes almost slits, one arm at her waist and another pointing a finger at him. "She is alone and orphaned, and in a strange place- none of it can be called pleasant by any stretch of imagination. _You will keep that in mind at all times._ And just because she is all locked up alone, don't you dare start getting any fancy ideas."

Harry could feel steam coming out of his ears and averted his eyes, concentrating hard on a scratch on the wood instead. He was sure Ron's ears and even face would be flaming red at his mother's implication.

"MUM!" yelled the redhead but his voice wasn't as embarrassed as Harry had imagined it would be. Looking up, he noticed his best mate looked strangely angry and only a tad bit uncomfortable.

"I swear, Mum, I'll rather marry a Blast-ended-skewt, than get 'fancy' ideas about _her,_ " he replied in a huff and turned away, his jaws clenched.

"How much does she need to know?" he asked Kingsley, a look of determination and something else Harry couldn't really pin point in his eyes.

"She needs to know about her parents and who did it. And, she needs to know she is safe, that we mean her no harm by keeping her locked up. It's for her own good. Apart from that, you can tell her she is with the Order and in one of our safe houses. I guess that should be enough for now. Oh! And you can tell her she will get to finish her schooling. No need to mention the details yet."

Ron nodded his head slightly and turned at his mother again.

"Do you expect me to carry this trunk load of food upstairs by myself or what?" he asked while picking himself off his chair and in a tone that suggested that he wanted to get over with the task as soon as he could.

Molly stared at her son for a while, and then, asked Harry to call Kreacher to take the tray upstairs till the third landing. Harry assumed she suspected that Ron might 'accidently' drop the food and he didn't really blame her.

"Come with me to the Burrow and you can pick up some pyjamas and sleeping bags for the two of you for the night," she told him, deep worry lines etched on her face after watching Ron climb upstairs right behind the elf with the tray.

With a small goodbye to Kingsley who promised to stay till Harry returned, the duo left with the green flames.

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 **A/N: Next chapter... Hermione meets her supposed Abductor...**

 **Thanks for reading. Will highly appreciate a review! Thanks!**


	3. The Custodian

**A/N: HAPPY HALLOWEEN Everyone!**

 **I am so happy with the responses I am getting from you, dear readers!** **Keeps me motivated, makes me post sooner. So please keep those reviews coming!**

 **Remember I said the characters will be darker in this story? Well, it begins...**

 **Enjoy and Please drop me a review!**

 **Edit: Many of my initial chapters seemed to be of mixed POVs. After much deliberation, and for the sake of the story, I have decided to keep it that way.**

* * *

 **All Characters belong to JKR**

 **Chapter 3: The Custodian**

She had dozed off while sitting with her back against the headboard and her head resting on her knees that she had pulled close to the body.

He knocked a couple of times with his knuckles while balancing the food-laden tray on the other hand, all the while cursing his horrid luck under his breath. There was no sound from inside and despite himself, Ron was slightly curious. Taking a deep breath and preparing himself for the worst, he touched the door knob. As soon as the silver came in contact with his palm, it glowed a bright blue before turning back to its normal, boring self and the door opened with a soft click. She didn't possibly know of the door opening or hear him enter for that matter, and surely never saw the bitter glance he gave at her hunched figure.

The light inside the room being dimmer than the rest of the house, Ron squinted till his eyes could make out the details of the room. After a while, he made his way towards a low stool next to the wardrobe as noiselessly as he possibly could.

 _As long as he could just drop the bloody tray and leave before she woke up..._

The tiny phials clinked together and he almost spilled the soup over the bacon but managed to save it all just the last minute. Glad, he turned around. A slight nudge from his hand was all it took, and the fork and knife clattered down on the floor, breaking the silence of the room along with it.

"Fuck! Fuck! Bloody hell!" he muttered furiously, picking up the articles and placing them back before he turned around.

For a brief moment, the brown eyes met the blue, and he could just about make out the shock and fear in them, cherishing the way her face lost all colour at his sight. She looked like a deer caught in the headlights of a car and he allowed himself a satisfied smirk. Granger was looking for an escape. He watched her carefully as her eyes glanced between him and the door that was partially open.

 _Enough for an escape, Granger? Perhaps not._

He could see her intent in her eyes and despite himself, a small cruel smile formed on his lips.

 _Well, he could let her try, couldn't he?_

She scrambled with her long gown for a split second before jumping off the bed and rushed towards the door. Hopefully, a small part of that brilliant brain that was not concentrating on her escape would be wondering why he had not so much as lifted a finger to stop her. At least, she got that answer soon enough.

The door shut with a bang when she was barely inches away, the force of it knocking her backwards. Stumbling to maintain her balance and avoid tripping over the hem of her long dress at the same time, she let out a frustrated groan. He let out a snicker.

Granger turned around angrily, holding the long dress tightly between her fists, while he stood close to the desk, arms folded casually at his chest.

"W-What did you do?" she asked backing away. He could see the panic rising in her at the predicament but he did not bother to answer. He had known the wards wouldn't allow her to leave the room, _for her own fucking safety._

"Why have you brought me here? What do you want?" she asked, her voice trembling despite the false show of bravado.

"I haven't brought you here. And believe me, I want nothing to do with you," he replied, unable to stop the hatred he felt from creeping into his voice.

She was watching him intently; her arms wrapped protectively around her chest, shoulders straight but fearful at the same time.

Any other girl and he would have pitied her for her situation. _Any_ other girl and he would have felt horrible for being such a prat. But she wasn't just anyone, was she? She was the one and only, Hermione Granger.

..

The food smelt delicious and Hermione realised with a pang that she was literally starving. It definitely was a long time since she had had dinner with her parents.

 _Her_ _parents_ …

The thought almost choked her. She was now dead sure that she was brought here against her Father's wishes. She could feel the tears of frustration and fear pricking her eyes. Whatever she had imagined her situation to be, this was way worse. She almost wished for a broad, scruffy, dirty man, shoving a plate with a piece of bread at her from under the door.

 _Anything but Ronald Weasley_.

"Where am I?" she asked in a quieter voice.

"In a safe house with the Order of the Phoenix." There was definitely a tone of pride in that statement but her heart stopped.

"O-Order of the P-Phoenix?"

"Yes."

She threw all display of control away and ran to the door, pulling the knob and banging on the wood with her fists.

"LET ME GO! W-WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME? LET ME OUT OF HERE!" she yelled banging with all her might.

"STOP IT!" he barked furiously, and she stopped abruptly and turned around to find annoyance and extreme hatred etched in those otherwise handsome features. At least he had not moved towards her. She looked down searching.

 _Think, Hermione!_ she told herself furiously. _Maybe he had a wand she could nick…_ Although overpowering him physically would be difficult, with a wand she could handle him easily.

She glanced at the boy she loathed but found what she was looking for. The wood was poking out of his pocket. He was still watching her, however, and Hermione lowered her eyes and went back and sat at the edge of the bed. The gears in her brain was churning thoughts and plans rapidly. She had to get him talking, divert his attention till she could risk a chance.

"Why am I here?" she asked softly and he watched her for a while before he answered.

"To keep you safe," he replied bitterly. She did not believe him in the least.

"Eat up," he huffed after a while as he possibly noticed her watching the food. She licked her dry lips. In all honestly, she _was_ starving. But she was in the enemy's den, wasn't she? He roughly pulled out the chair next to the study table and placed it next to the stool.

"Eat."

She came forward consciously and took the offered seat. _At least, she was closer to him now and closer to the wand._ She glanced down noticing the enormous amount of food on the tray and also the two phials.

"H-How do I know it's not poisoned?"

He laughed aloud sarcastically.

"Don't you think we have had enough chances to kill you if we wanted to? Why bother getting you here in a proper room, getting the food prepared and then try poisoning you with it?"

..

She glared at him but Ron knew she was evaluating his answer. Finally, she picked up the soup bowl, and with her back straight against the chair, picked up the spoon. Just before the spoon touched her lips, though, she eyed him once and took a tentative sip. He knew she loved it because of her tongue darted out to smack her lips. He looked away abruptly.

Very soft clinking sounds continued as she ate. He turned once to see her cutting and picking small morsels of food before putting them daintily in her mouth. She sat a little hunched with the odd height of the chair and the food tray making it difficult for her to maintain her stiff posture.

 _Arrogant, stiff, bloody snobbish posture._

A while later, there was a small scraping noise like a chair being pushed away, and he finally turned to face her. She had not even managed to finish one-third of what his Mum had prepared. Muttering thanks she continued to look at him intently.

Hermione felt much better with the food in her system. Her head cleared significantly. She inconspicuously glanced at his pocket again from where the wand was peeking out, her sole chance of escape. She saw that he was looking at the tray but not seeing it perhaps. Hermione jumped up the moment he looked away for a second. Without warning, she lurched ahead reaching for his pocket, feeling overjoyed as fingers of her right hand touched the wood, but the very next moment, he had grasped her wrist in his hand so painfully that she yelped aloud and let the wand go. He didn't.

Weasley yanked her hand away from his wand and turned her arm around so that the back of her palm was now pressed behind against her lower back. His fingers were still curled painfully around her wrist bringing their bodies close while he looked down at her with undisguised loathing.

"Don't. Even. Think. About. It." he said so menacingly that she visibly trembled, angry tears pricked her eyes. Unwilling to give up, she struggled against his grip, trying uselessly to shake his hand off.

"Leave me!" she raged looking at him with fire in her eyes. _How dare he touch her!_

"Father will rip your arms for this!" she hissed. It didn't seem like he had heard. Those cool blue eyes continued to look at her without bothering to hide the hatred he felt for her as she struggled against his grip.

"LET ME GO, WEASLEY! You are hurting me!"

For a moment he looked surprised as if seeing her and their position for the first time, and his grip slackened. She took the moment to dash away.

"Fuck!" he muttered under his breath, breathing deeply and running his fingers through his hair.

Ron eyed her carefully. She was standing as far away from him as the room would allow, massaging her bruised wrist with the other hand.

"I'm sorry," he said uncomfortably. She glared at him but did not bother to reply. He inhaled deeply cursing his horrid luck and pulled out the chair for himself.

"Sit," he told her indicating the bed.

"What makes you think I'll do as you order me to?" she scoffed back instead. The fire returned to his eyes.

"Look, Granger, you are going to be here for a long time. And I am the only person you'll get to see in all this while. So you might as well learn to cooperate." She remained standing (and glaring as well) but he knew he had got her attention this time.

"Why have you got me here?" she asked, eyeing him with suspicion. He took a deep breath again. His mother was right. He had no clue how he was supposed to handle this. He could almost hear her voice loud in his ears.

' _She is alone and orphaned and in a strange place, nothing that can be called pleasant by any stretch of an imagination. You will keep that in mind at all times.'_

"Believe me you should sit down for this," he said a little more politely this time and was surprised when she actually did as asked, positioning herself against the headrest, keeping the farthest distance from him.

He wondered how to begin. He could get to the point straight off.

"Some of the Order members rescued you from the fire at your mansion last night," he began, noticing the colour and anger drain out from her face to be replaced by terror.

"F-Fire?"

"Yeah. Fiend Fire."

"F-Fiend F-Fire?" she asked as fresh tears pooled in her big brown eyes that reflected shock and disbelief in equal measure.

"Yeah."

"Mother? F-Father?" she asked, and Ron had a feeling that she knew the answer already. He couldn't help feeling bad for her, suddenly realising how much she had lost. He had no answer so he remained silent and averted his eyes, allowing the silence to be the answer enough.

"Well, I d-don't believe you!" she declared after a while, and Ron looked up to see a steady stream of tears running down her cheeks as she bit her trembling lips.

"Why _should_ I believe you?" she asked again.

"Because that is the truth, perhaps?"

"You are lying!"

"Suit yourself," he muttered annoyed and then cursed himself.

"Look, Granger, I know this is tough for you," he managed, itching to get this over with and leave the room. "Believe me, I wouldn't be here if I could help it either."

"Then why _are_ you here?" she asked like she couldn't wait to see him gone.

"Because I have been assigned to this task, I've got to keep you safe," he answered bitterly as she scoffed.

" _You_? Keep me safe? And who has given you this job, may I ask? Dumbledore perhaps?" she sneered. "Father is right, that man has gone senile."

The fury he was barely holding back burst through him again.

"If your father was so clever, he should have known better and chosen better friends, Granger! And you should thank this very same 'senile' man for saving your miserable life from your father's dear old Master," he spat, noticing with satisfaction as she watched him with horror.

"The D-Dark Lord killed them?"

"Well he does fancy killing, doesn't he?"

"Why would he do that? Father always…" she stopped mid sentence looking horrified at having almost acknowledged her family links with the Dark Lord. This was not something that was to be spoken out aloud.

"' _Always_ ' what? Sang praises of him? Aren't you guys thick to assume that You-know-who cares for you lot like a mother wolf watching her cubs?" he asked as the repulsion he felt for her crept back in. In a way, she deserved what she got.

"I DON'T BELIEVE YOU! I DON'T BELIEVE ANYTHING YOU'VE SAID!"

"As I said, suit yourself." _Well, at least he could say he tried._

Ron shoved back the chair and walked over to pick up the tray, never taking his eyes off her as she sat on the bed in disbelief. Picking up the two phials he placed them on the bedside table, and with a last look at her, walked out of the door that opened at his touch. The door closed as soon as Ron had stepped out of the boundary of the room.

He dropped the tray in Kreacher's arms at the third landing and rushed down the steps. He had to go as far from her as he possibly could.

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 _ **A/N: I am eagerly looking forward to your review to know your thoughts on this chapter.**_

 _ *** Unlike my other story When Fate Decides which had many characters, this one will revolve mostly around Ron and Hermione. I don't think anyone will complain though :)**_


	4. The Night Watch

**A/N: First huge thanks to all of you for showing interest in this story. It really makes it worth the effort.**

 **Secondly, some of you have told me you are shocked at the way Ron behaved and I know many of you reading it would have felt the same. You just have to be little more patient to know why. I would have got that bit as a part of this chapter but I still have some loose ends to tie up on that front so you'll have to wait a little longer.**

 **I really hope you like this chapter though it is a little shorter than the others but fear not the next update will be soon.**

 **Enjoy and Please don't forget the review!**

* * *

 **All Characters belong to JKR.**

 **Chapter 4:The Night Watch**

They took up the biggest bedroom in the second floor Harry had asked Kreacher to clean up.

The beds were yet to get sorted and hence the boys had decided to sleep in the sleeping bags Harry had brought down from the Burrow. As they changed into their pyjamas, Harry noticed that Ron had gone even more silent than before, having not spoken a word since he had come down. Kingsley had left by then and Tonks had appeared with a bag of clothes which Ron flat out refused to take upstairs till next morning.

"How did it go?" Harry asked carefully once they both had tucked themselves in.

"Horrid, just as expected," replied the redhead.

Harry really hoped Ron would continue but when the latter didn't elaborate further, he was forced to question him directly.

"Did you tell her about her parents?"

"Yeah. She thinks I'm lying," he replied without any emotion.

"And about the Order keeping her here?"

"I told her that she was rescued by our side but seems like she would have been happier to be with her own lot."

It was hard to miss the deep loathing Ron carried for the girl and Harry wracked his brains to think of a reason good enough. Hermione Granger was in Slytherin so they had had frequent classes together since their first year. She was the one who was the top of their class and Harry couldn't deny that her superiority complex did annoy him a tad bit too. But at least she was better than Malfoy and his cronies, and also Pansy Parkinson or Millicent Bullstrode for that matter. Apart from that, their interaction with Granger had been minimal. Sure they saw her almost every single time they landed in the library for notes, and she was a Prefect so that would mean Ron would have met her during the Prefect meetings...

And then it clicked!

"Did something happen between the two of you when you were doing your patrols together all of last year?" he asked quickly, eager to find out if he had guessed it right.

Ron was silent for such a long time that Harry concluded that either the boy had dozed off or he had got it right. Surprisingly, Ron had not mentioned it before even in passing. Sure they were busy with the DA meetings while hiding away the whole episode from Umbridge, and with Harry practically flicking in and out of Voldemort's thoughts he hadn't really noticed much. And now it seemed like Ron wasn't keen on sharing it either.

"Ron?" he asked again just to check if his best mate was awake, although the absence of his mild snoring should have been an indication enough.

"I was wondering why Dumbledore gave _me_ this task?" Ron asked finally.

"Think about it, Harry. Why not you? Okay, he said that you'll be busy with something else, but then, why not someone from the Order, Tonks perhaps? Heck, even Fred and George would have been a way better choice! Why _me_?"

"Come on mate, you are being much too hard on yourself," he provided. "He must have had his reasons. There are hardly things that man doesn't know," he added. Ron did have a bit of a confidence problem but there was no dearth of bravery in there.

"Exactly, he must have his reasons. And that is why I am all the more confused," murmured Ron almost to himself.

"So, care to tell me what's got you all riled up about her?" he asked again.

"Well let's just say, I've seen enough of her to know that I would have done much better without having to see her day in and day out. And hell be damned, that's what I have got to do for Merlin knows how long," he responded grumpily, still skirting over the true reasons.

Ron rolled over to face the other side and Harry knew there was no chance he was getting any truth out of him, at least not tonight. It made him all the more curious. He couldn't help wonder if Dumbledore knew what Ron was holding back. How likely was it that Ron had been allotted this duty for the exact reason why he wanted to avoid Hermione Granger in the first place? He yawned aloud in the silent room.

"Night, Harry," came Ron's voice muffled from within the covers.

"Night, Ron," he replied, still feeling a tad bit annoyed with his best mate.

...

Loud screaming woke them up in the dead of the night.

It took Ron a while to figure out where he was and then as he saw Harry scrambling to get out of the sleeping bag next to him, it all fell into place. The boys caught each other's eyes exactly at the same time.

"Granger!" they exclaimed together and grasping their wands, jolted up the stairs as the screaming continued. Ron crossed the barrier in a rush and the door gave away easily at his touch.

The room was just as dimly lit as before, with his heart beating madly in his chest, he looked carefully at the bed. She was there, thrashing around with her eyes shut tight. He looked around frantically for any intruder and even checked the washroom just to be sure. But just as expected, there was no one so he quickly made his way to the sleeping girl.

Bending over her curled form he called out loudly.

"GRANGER!"

She continued to scream and fling her arms around as if throwing off invisible assailants.

"GRANGER! WAKE UP!" he called louder. When she continued to thrash around still, he sat down in the small space next to her. Dropping his wand to the side, he placed his arms on her shoulders and gave a shake.

"WAKE UP!" he called.

She opened her eyes for a spilt-second, and even in the dim light he could see her eyes fill with terror as she began to struggle harder. Assuming she was still in some kind of a sleep induced trance, Ron shook her harder and in return, she cried out aloud scratching and clawing at his face and hands.

"LEAVE ME! NO!" she yelled while sobbing continuously.

"WAKE UP, GRANGER ! YOU ARE DREAMING! IT'S ONLY JUST A FUCKING NIGHTMARE!" he yelled, hoping he wasn't scaring her further, all the while trying to save himself from her attacks but keeping his hold on her shoulders none the less.

Finally, she opened her eyes and stopped struggling.

"W-What h-happened?" she managed weakly.

"You were having a nightmare," he provided, watching her carefully to ensure she was actually awake this time.

She gulped audibly, breathing heavy while he watched her chest rise and fall rapidly. The minute he realised where he was staring, he looked away and dropped his hands from her shoulder as if scorched by her touch. Picking up the wand, he left the bed in a rush.

She saw him look around as if searching for someone and then step towards the door and lean out partially.

"Hey mate! You there?"

"Yup!" came an instant reply. "Wards keeping me out for some reason."

"Great!" remarked Ron sarcastically.

"Could you arrange for the little guy to get some more candles and a goblet of water up here?" he asked aloud.

"Sure," replied the same voice and was followed by the sound of footsteps descending the stairs.

Hermione watched him turn around. Almost instantly half a dozen candles appeared on candle brackets that were invisible till a while ago. These way much lower on the wall and showered the room in much-needed light. A pitcher and a goblet appeared on the side table as well.

Ron moved to the table, careful to keep his wand tucked deep inside his pocket. He picked up the phial of Calming Drought. The bottle was still sealed. He showed it to her and then, poured out a goblet of water. With her still watching him, he poured a few drops of the potion into it. Corking the phial and placing it back, he came around and handed the goblet to her, careful not to touch her.

She took in the goblet wordlessly, noticing the many fresh scratches on his face and hands. Lowering her eyes she took a sip and then drank deeply feeling the potion work it's magic instantly. Placing the empty goblet aside she turned at the tall figure who stood a little distance away with his arms folded at his chest.

"Are you alright?" he inquired, and Hermione was surprised to notice that he sounded genuinely concerned.

"Yes," she whispered.

"You might want to take the other potion as well. Will give you better sleep," he suggested in a flatter voice this time.

She nodded slightly and picking up the other phial, opened the cork and swallowed a mouthful. She noticed he was still watching her. The effect of the two potions was almost instantaneous. She was feeling warm and cosy and pleasantly drowsy.

He watched her adjusting herself back on the bed and was almost at the door when she called.

"Will you stay here for the night?"

Hermione had no clue why she said that, and she was sure the shock that reflected in his eyes would be mirrored in her own. She wanted to say it didn't matter, wanted to say he could leave but she was feeling very sleepy, and somehow, for reasons unknown, she felt safer with him around. Just before she closed her eyes, she saw him pull out the chair and stretch his long legs on the low stool.

...

She was sleeping peacefully now, curled up on her side when Ron tiptoed out and the door closed behind him. Making his way to their bedroom he found a drowsy Harry waiting for him.

"What happened?" croaked the bespectacled boy.

"Nightmares," he replied scratching his face unconsciously before he winced out.

The sound seemed to wake up Harry a little more and he squinted.

"Are those scratches? Blimey, Ron! What the hell happened?" he asking noticing the deep red marks that were in stark contrast to Ron's pale skin.

"She thought I was attacking her. I gave her the potions, she is sleeping now."

"Okay, but what about those?" Harry asked indicating Ron's face.

"Nothing. I don't suppose we have anything stocked here. We both can't do magic without bringing ministry to the doorstep. Kreacher will probably take the chance and injure me even more. So I guess we leave it, Mum will sort it out in the morning."

Harry looked at Ron curiously. For all the hatred he bore towards their new guest, Ron had not wasted a second to go to her aid. Maybe that was what Dumbledore saw in him, the selflessness and the dedication to do the right thing no matter what.

"Should we go back to sleep then?" he inquired and was even more surprised when Ron turned to walk out again.

"You do that. I'll keep watch," he said and walked back upstairs leaving a shocked Harry behind wondering where this new assignment of Ron's would lead them to.

...

Hermione woke up as the effect of the potion faded. In the few minutes between opening her eyes and remembering her surroundings, she felt the tears begin to well up in her eyes.

"You're up," came a deep voice from somewhere close by, and she scrambled to cover her exposed calf by pulling the gown down. Weasley looked tired like he hadn't slept all night. Lifting his tall form up, he walked to the window and pulled the drapes away. Sunlight streamed in flooding the room with its dazzling light that shone off his bright hair. She almost exclaimed aloud as she saw the scratches that marked his face, visible despite the faint copper stubble that had appeared overnight.

He didn't bother to say anything as he made his way to the door before he stopped and turned.

"Wash up, we've got some clothes for you to change into, and I'll see if I can get your breakfast up here without me having to come back and invade your privacy." His voice was throaty with the lack of sleep and it was evident he wanted to get out as soon as he could.

"You hate me don't you, Weasley?" she asked although it was more of a declaration of what they both knew was the truth. "And yet you stayed," she added. He was like a puzzle she couldn't figure out and it bothered her.

"Yes, I hate you, Granger, and you know perfectly well that you have given me more than enough reasons to do so. I stayed because watching over you is a part of my assignment which I have to fulfil irrespective of my personal feelings." The ice in his words mirrored in his eyes. With that he left, shutting the door roughly behind him.

* * *

 _ **A/N: A huge round of thanks to all my lovely reviewers. You guys made my day.**_

 _ **nirdoodle and recks: Guys I won't answer just yet to avoid spoilers. :)**_


	5. The Hole in the Heart

**A/N: I am so happy with your responses. Thank you so very much! :)**

 **So here is a very awaited chapter. Enjoy and please Review!**

 **I'm a little stuck at the moment so I'll reply to your fantastic reviews in some time.**

 **All character rights belong to JKR**

* * *

 **Chapter 5: The Hole in the Heart**

The door of the kitchen was pushed open roughly as a half sleepy Ron entered and pulling out a chair, plopped down on it while scratching his slightly stubbled cheeks.

"Gosh Ron you look awful!" exclaimed Harry who was carrying a mug of hot tea.

"Thanks, mate," remarked the redhead drily as he stifled a yawn.

"So, you actually stayed up all night?" asked Harry, undisguised surprise and a hint of mockery evident in his tone.

"Well, I thought it best to stay awake than risk her attempting to nick my wand again. This time around she would have finished me off for sure," he replied, putting his arms on the table and folding them before resting his head down. There was a sound of spluttering followed by mild swearing which made Ron glance up and give a weak grin.

"She tried to nick your wand?!" Harry managed after wiping the splattered tea off his t-shirt with his free hand. "When did that happen?"

"Yeah, she tried that once yesterday when I took up her supper. That one has got a crazy way to show her gratitude," Ron provided, his voice slurring slightly with sleep as he struggled to keep his eyes open.

"Why don't you go upstairs and take a nap?" asked his friend, sipping on his tea. "I asked Kreacher to fix up a couple of beds, the ones we used last time," he added as Ron grunted a reply, his eyes already closed.

There was a knock on the door and Mrs Weasley appeared a while later carrying what Harry hoped was some stock for the empty pantry. She took in Ron's sleeping form on the table curiously and had almost turned away before she did a double take and looked up at Harry in surprise.

"What happened to his face?" she asked, and Harry hoped she wasn't really imagining the worst from Ron.

"Granger woke us up in the middle of the night with her screams, apparently she was having nightmares. When Ron tried waking her up, she assumed he was attacking her. Hence..." he indicated his friend's scratched face and hands. Molly's eyes softened immediately.

"Oh my poor baby!" she exclaimed and dropping the parcels on the table, took out her wand and healed him in a flash. Then she lovingly ruffled his hair and tutted softly before making her way to the kitchen to get their breakfast ready.

"I've got a few of Ginny's dresses and a few other things she'll need," she said aloud.

"Tonks got some stuff last night." he told her and pointed out the bag that was still lying on one of the chairs.

"Why is Ron sleeping now?" she asked while ladling out bowls of porridge for them.

"Erm...He stayed up most of the night keeping watch over her, after her nightmares, I mean," he furnished feeling a little warm around the cheeks. Molly did not comment to that but Harry did catch her looking at her son adorably while she buttered their toasts for them.

After a little more time, three food-laden trays floated to the table and a couple of them settled in front of the boys while the third landed delicately at the centre. Harry picked up his spoon immediately but then dropped it back and moved over to the sleeping boy to wake him up.

"Ron! Ron!" he called as he shook his mate.

"Hmm?" replied the redhead without opening his eyes.

"Breakfast, Ron!" he said, knowing well that those two words were enough to wake him up.

Ron forced his eyes open, and pushing himself up, pulled the tray closer and looked around. Noticing his mother, he gave her a goofy smile.

"Thanks, Mum." he muttered sleepily as he bit into his toast.

"Once you finish eating, Ron, take this tray upstairs and then you can go to your room and sleep."

"Tell Kreacher to send them upstairs like he did with the pitcher and goblet last night," he replied grumpily. "What am I, her personal house elf?" he added annoyed.

"Ronald Weasley! You will take this upstairs. It is absolute bad manners to send food that way!" admonished the elderly witch and Harry noticed Ron attacking his porridge in frustration. He had no idea if Molly noticed her son because she was now pulling out a floral summer dress from a bag.

"I wonder if Ginny's stuff will fit her?" she asked Harry while lifting the dress up by the shoulder straps. He looked up from his plate, totally confused. _How on earth was he supposed to know?_

"She is a couple of inches shorter than Gin, Mum and slightly thinner," responded the still sulking young man, and Harry had to literally bite his tongue to avoid commenting or smirking for that matter. _Not in front of his mum, no!_ he told himself sternly, trying to stifle the smile. He tried catching Ron's eyes. It was way too much of an effort to keep the teasing on hold till they were alone.

"Oh, okay then!" said Molly seriously as she pulled out the clothes from both the bags and altered them accordingly before repacking everything. With a flick, they disappeared and Harry knew where they would have appeared.

Fifteen minutes later, Ron was once again outside the door on the third floor, look of deep loathing etched in his features. It was not even one whole day of this so called 'assignment' and he was already pissed off.

He knocked a couple of times before turning the knob and entered without bothering for her response.

There were clothes all over the bed. He recognised one deep blue top that was Ginny's before he turned around to face an extremely annoyed someone standing with her arms folded at her chest.

"These are old clothes," she said with contempt.

"Sorry?" he asked, completely baffled.

"You should be! I can't wear these! They are old and tasteless and some of them are _muggle_ clothes!" she said with disgust.

He stared at her for a while before he burst out laughing as she continued to watch him indignantly.

"What are you expecting?" he managed finally, " _dresses from Paris?"_ he asked incredulously. She eyed him with contempt.

" I want new clothes, at least from Gladrags Wizardwear if not some place better," she said with her nose up in the air.

Ron stared at her for a while, his blue eyes losing the mirth from a while ago to showcase sheer frustration. He dropped the tray a little too loudly on the study table before turning around to face her.

"Look, Granger-" he hissed with all the patience he could muster. "-these clothes belong to people who have the heart to share their own with someone who doesn't have anything right now. You're forgetting, everything you owned was lost in the fire. Your galleons are all locked in Gringotts and your vaults sealed. You are in no position to throw tantrums here."

She flinched at his words but did not lose the haughty look in her eyes.

"I won't wear hand- me- downs," she sneered glaring in contempt at the articles on the bed.

Ron balled his fists and took a few deep breaths.

"Fine. Do as you wish," he spat gritting his teeth. "I'll send these back. You can wear your one single gown for as long as we are stuck in this mess. Roam around naked while it goes for a wash for all I care. And then, when it turns into tatters, we'll have a fantastic display of your assets." he added coldly and watched her pale cheeks turn pink in embarrassment or anger, or perhaps both. He tried shoving off the image of a naked Hermione moving around in the room and was disgusted to note that it was making his body react in ways he didn't want it to. Luckily for him, she didn't notice as she had already turned away.

"Leave," she hissed.

"With pleasure," he sneered and walked out of the door, banging it shut behind him.

...

He punched the pillow to make it a little more comfortable, knowing completely well that it wasn't the fault of the bed or any other innate article in his vicinity that he was still struggling to fall asleep, even after an hour of coming back from her room.

But the truth was, that one simple sentence from his mouth had opened a floodgate of other emotions that were simmering inside him anyway, emotions he been struggling to keep under the wraps for weeks now. He knew Harry had already noticed, and yet, this was one thing he couldn't share with his best mate. He had craved so much to tell Harry the previous year. But that was all in the past. Now he wanted to keep it to himself forever.

He turned around again, perhaps for a hundredth time in the past one hour. _How he could be so sexually attracted to the one person he loathed beyond all? How could he be attracted to her even after everything that she had done? After all that she had said?_

He turned around to face the ceiling which was much higher up here in Grimmauld Place and remembered for the millionth time how it had all begun...

* * *

 _Previous Year ... the beginning of October_

"To make it less suspicious, we'll pair up each Prefect with someone from a different house for the night patrols for the whole year. That way we can keep Slytherin Prefects, Malfoy and Granger, away from our path. That way, Harry and the rest of DA guys can sneak into the Room of Requirements easily."

Luna had come up with the plan and it had been accepted by all. After all, it was of utmost importance hide the whole secret training bit from Umbridge.

Ron had been paired with Granger, as even a cribbing Parvati had accepted that pairing Ron and Malfoy together would be equivalent to feeding a fire cracker to a Blast-Ended Skewt. And that had been the unfortunate start to his interaction with her. Although, to be honest, it did not feel so bad at first.

Yes, he found her annoying. She was such a know-it-all, and her arrogance and snobbish attitude were enough to irk him from miles away. But he could not resist the charm during those silent nights when they walked down together through the dark corridors. He assumed it was because unlike the classes, where she talked incessantly answering all questions and probing the teachers for more notes, here, she hardly spoke. He certainly wasn't complaining. After a few weeks of silent patrolling, he realised that he liked her silent form better. Heck, without the contempt with which she graced the others during the day, her face looked pretty, almost beautiful.

Was it the moonlight filtering in through the high windows in the hallway and casting a soft light on her delicate features that made her look so breathtaking? Or was it the way her soft curls fell on her face? Or perhaps the way she tucked them behind her ears with those delicate fingers? Maybe it was those rare occasions when she looked up at him with those big brown eyes or even that perfume she used... He didn't know.

It took a couple of months for Ron to realise that he was done for. Of all the girls in Hogwarts, he, Ron Weasley, was falling for a snobbish Slytherin. He kept telling himself that it was all futile and he was being an absolute dork. Imagine the horror if Fred and George got to know! He wanted to tell Harry but his best mate was so busy with the DA and with his scary dreams that it felt almost childish to tell him. And then there was the fact that she was a Slytherin. How could he ever explain that?!

Forced by his stupid heart he started frequenting the library. To everyone else, he was preparing for his O. W. Ls, to him, it was a moment to watch her in her element, surrounded by books, making notes, licking her lips as she looked through pages of huge volumes or chatted softly with her friend Daphne. Of all he liked the moments when she bit her lower lip and released it slowly. He almost craved to walk up to her and throwing away the book from her hands, pull her in his arms. He dreamt of lowering his lips on hers and biting those plum lips softly before running his tongue over them to sooth the pain from the bite. He imagined tangling his fingers in those soft curls and smelling the perfume at her nape. He almost thought of unbuttoning the high neck robes she wore to see the soft, creamy skin behind, and maybe even trailing down a path with his lips...

But despite all the fanciful dreams that both kept him awake at nights and haunted his sleeping hours, he was nowhere close to even picking up a casual conversation with her.

It happened after the Christmas Holidays, after the time his father was attacked in the Department of Mysteries. They had to leave a week earlier than the date on which the holidays officially began.

"You left early before Christmas," she said the first time he saw her on the patrols after his return. He wondered when she had begun to start sounding sweet rather than annoying.

"Yeah, some family stuff..." he replied hoping that the random beating of his heart was not audible outside his body.

"Oh..." she responded softly with those eyes meeting his in concern. "All okay I hope?"

"Yeah...yeah," he responded, cursing his brain for wiping away his entire vocabulary except for that one word.

"I missed you... I mean during the patrols," she said in the softest of whispers, and he did all he could to stop himself from pushing her back against the stone walls and snogging her senseless.

"Oh..." he said instead and felt his ears turn red, glad that the partial darkness was at least hiding his burning face.

She turned and looked up at him again, and in the moonlight that chose to light up her face at that precise moment, he saw her smile at him shyly and Ron knew he was lost. He had officially lost his heart to Hermione Granger.

There were very few words after that and even fewer occasions of brushing of the hands that made a shiver run down his arms, but nothing more happened. They spoke a few sentences but mostly the patrolled together in silence. And yes, there were many stolen glances, times when he sat in a different table from hers at the library but in the straight line of her vision. And on the rare occasions when they both were alone at their tables, he would look at her long enough for her to notice before she turned away timidly and her fair cheeks would glow crimson. There were times when the brown eyes met the blue, and even in those few stolen minutes, they held a promise, a promise of something beautiful in the future.

It happened just a couple of days before their O. W. Ls began. He had gone to the library to wish her luck, and after an enormous amount of mental prep had convinced himself to tell her that yes, he fancied her. But she wasn't there so he hung in the row behind the desk she usually occupied. It wasn't long before two soft voices were heard on the other side of the shelf. She was with her friend. He waited for Daphne to leave her alone to return the books to the librarian. It was the normal routine. Hermione got them issued, Greengrass returned them.

Anyway, he stood hiding in the shadows, flipping through a random book to keep anyone from suspecting that his sole attention was elsewhere.

"He isn't here today," came Daphne's voice and he instantly knew who she was referring to. Unconsciously he grinned to himself, rubbing his warm neck.

"Good," she replied, and his grin faltered at her tone.

"So how is the drama going on?" asked the other girl.

"It's annoying having to make coy faces at him while all I want to do is puke, Daph."

He stood stunned, trying to convince himself that maybe they were not talking about him at all. But her next sentence shattered that hope once and for all.

"I'm going to murder Draco. What a stupid idea for me to flirt around with that Weasley so that he can find out what Potter is up to."

"So, it isn't working?"

"Well, he is charmed alright. But I haven't found anything, have I? He hardly talks."

"Why don't you ask him?"

"Well he might be dumb, but he isn't that big a fool. I was hoping he will begin to speak up by now. Seems my flirting skills are way better than my spying skills."  
There was a sound of girlish laughter as he stood rooted to his spot. It was all a game, a very well planned one and he had fallen straight into the trap.

"So you'll carry the plan into next year?"

"Oh no! What if he becomes all bold during the summer and decides to snog me?" she replied, disgusted. "Do you know how many times I have to wash my hands after we 'accidently' brush hands? Mother says all kinds of diseases grow in filth. No way am I doing that!"

"But you have to give it to Draco for his observation skills, Herms. Only he saw Weasley eying you for weeks before Christmas."

There was a snicker from both the girls before Daphne spoke again.

"But at least Weasley looks good; you've got to give him that."

"Good looks don't substitute for empty pockets, Daphs. Imagine the horror if the school knew what I am doing! Imagine if our names were said together, I would rather die of shame and disgust."

"I am surprised Draco kept his promise you know? I mean he didn't disclose it. I would have thought he would announce just to watch Potter's reaction to the news, and the rest of the Gryffindor's for that matter," said Daphne.

"Well, he had to, didn't he? That was my main clause. Draco can keep his Potter craze to himself. I would have still understood if he wanted me to flirt with Potter, but no! He wanted it to be Weasley to avoid suspicion! I mean, what would Weasley be if he had not managed to make friends with Potter the first day on the train? Who would ever know him?"

"Come on, Herms, he is brave."

"Please, Daphs! Getting into trouble is no bravery. He just does it so that Potter doesn't drop him for someone else as a best mate."

Ron could not hear any more. He could feel the hurt burn his very being. And yet, who could he blame? They were still talking but he didn't need to know anything else. He had heard enough. He kept hiding till Greengrass went away. He wanted Hermione Granger to know that she was caught, wanted to see if there was any trace of guilt in those eyes.

It was still a while before the other girl left, and once she did, he took a moment to draw in a deep breath and then walked out of the darkness to where she sat.

Her face lit up for a moment as their eyes met. But he continued to look at her expressionlessly, noticing for the first time how fake she really was. There was a look of confusion in her eyes when he did not smile back, and then those beautiful lips curled into a cruel smile as the realisation hit her. She shrugged and shook her head mockingly as if laughing at his foolishness before returning back to her book.

"Why did you do it?" he asked in an oddly calm voice that did not sound like him at all.

"Well, you can call it revenge, Weasley," she said shrugging. "Remember our first year when Slytherin almost got the house cup? I had scored the maximum points earned by a single student in a century that year, you know? But that was before you got grace marks for your silly little adventures and spoiled my moment. Consider this a little payback." she snorted.

There were so many things he wanted to tell her but he said nothing at all. He left after a while hoping that he never had to see her face again in his life.

That fateful night, lying on his bed in the boys' dormitory in Gryffindor tower, Ron knew he would never hate anyone more than he hated Hermione Granger.

* * *

 ** _A/N: Thanks for reading! Looking forward to your reviews._**


	6. Something Different

**A/N: Am I happy that you all liked the previous chapter and dropped so many fantastic reviews, started following and added this to your favourites? Nope, I am overjoyed and relieved :)**

 **Now that I have successfully massacred Hermione's character, she will have to redeem herself for not only Ron but you guys as well.**

* * *

 **Sadly all characters (including Ron) still belong to JKR**

 **Chapter 6: Something Different**

The next time he saw her, she was standing near the window watching the muggles walking by in the street below.

"Can't they see me?" she asked quietly without turning around after she heard him enter the room. He placed her lunch tray on the low stool before replying.

"No."

"Oh..." she responded, still watching the life beyond her prison with a mixture of amused longing.

He noticed she was wearing a deep red dress that came till her knees. Her hair that reached her waist in thick curls was set free and the not too gentle breeze from the window played with it, running its invisible fingers through her tresses like Ron had often dreamt of doing back in time. The small sleeves and the length of her dress showed way more of her soft creamy skin than the long robes she wore at school ever did. Granger turned slightly to lean on the windowsill on the left, and he grudgingly allowed his eyes to linger down her slender profile. The dress clung to her body, clearly marking the swell of her breasts and then tapering at her tiny waist only to flare open again before ending just at her knees. Then her hand went up to her hair in that painfully familiar gesture and he turned around abruptly to look away. He had almost reached the door when she spoke again.

"What happens to me when you leave for school Weasley?" Her voiced was laced heavily with hopeless melancholy. He closed his eyes momentarily, taking in a deep breath and curbing the urge to leave at the earliest. Civil conversations were not quite their strong point.

"Sit," he replied tiredly.

Turning around, she quietly moved ahead and sat on the edge of the bed, her hands clasped together on her lap. Ron remained standing, though, leaning on the wall next to the door, his arms folded at his chest.

"You won't have to miss school," he said and watched her eyes lit up. He looked away from that face to look at the window instead. "You won't be able to attend classes personally because you need to be kept hidden. However, you will still be at Hogwarts-" he paused briefly, "-in a secret chamber. The professors will know, and you'll not miss out on your education. Don't ask me the details, I don't know much myself. But it's all getting sorted."

He did not wait to see her smile reflect in her eyes before he turned away. Just as he reached out for the doorknob she spoke once more.

"I am bored," she announced this time, and even without turning back he could visualise her pout.

"So?" he inquired, not bothering to mask his annoyance.

"You can't keep me here without my wand and my books, in fact, without any company at all! What am I supposed to do all day?" she asked like a moody child.

He gritted his teeth and turned around.

"Cherish the fact that you are alive and safe, perhaps?" he spat sarcastically as his icy cold eyes met the brown ones. He noticed the unshed tears in the eyes that used to mesmerise him earlier. But all he could see now was a great actress at work to get her way.

"I miss my family, Weasley. I... I feel very lonely. Can't you even get me something to help me keep my mind off of my parents?" she beseeched, rubbing her palms before wrapping her arms around herself. Obviously, pleading him for help was damaging her pride beyond repair.

He took in her form sceptically, allowing himself the satisfaction of seeing her cringe with the way he watched her, but nothing in his features gave out what he thought of her request. Then, without any kind of reply, he turned around and left.

Ron came down to the kitchen to find Tonks stocking up a small Potions cabinet while describing the different vials to Harry.

"Hey, Ron! How's it going?" she asked cheerfully.

He frowned in response. "We are stuck during our summer holidays babysitting a spoilt rich Slytherin. How do you think it is going, Tonks?"

"He is still not taking it well, is he?" she asked amused and Harry shook his head snickering.

"Nope."

The door to the kitchen opened again, and in walked Dumbledore along with Lupin.

"Aah, Mr Weasley!" beamed the old man. "How's Miss Granger?"

Ron had a hundred different words he could use but kept his thoughts to himself. "She is bored and needs books now," he replied in a flat voice.

"Well, I can help with that!" responded the Headmaster and waved his wand, but nothing happened in that room at least. Ron thought he might have noticed a glint of something in the old man's eyes but Dumbledore had gone back to conversing softly with Lupin so he turned to face Harry instead.

"At least I don't have to carry a trunk full of books upstairs for Her Highness," he grumbled before pulling out a butterbeer for himself.

It had been only ten minutes or so that Ron and Harry had taken up their places opposite an old chess board and the senior members still sat discussing Order matters, when loud screams were heard from upstairs.

"I hate that woman!" he swore, and throwing away his queen's side castle roughly on the board, rushed out in a huff, taking two stairs at a time to reach the third floor.

"WHAT NOW?" he yelled as he entered without knocking.

Hermione Granger was standing in front of the desk that now had four racks of books. One large volume, however, was lying on the floor at her feet. She turned around at his voice to show her hands; the palms of both displaying angry red boils.

"What is this?" she cried accusingly as angry tears rolled down her face.

"I don't know!" he replied honestly looking between the fallen book and her hands, very confused himself.

"Of course you do!" she spat. "Look what it did to my hands!" she sobbed.

Ron stood there in confusion unable to fathom why the headmaster would send her a cursed article.

"Go ahead! Pick it up for yourself and see. Let's see how brave you are." she challenged while gritting her teeth in pain.

He looked at her with furrowed brows as anger flared again within him at her insinuation. Bending down, he picked it up without so much as a twitch. Staring at her hard, he dropped it on the desk with a loud thud.

"B-but it burned me!" she cried in surprise, staring bewildered at the book and then, his unscathed form.

He scoffed at her and flipped the cover open, very surprised to find nothing but the blank pages before he realised she was screaming again.

"Now m-my eyes are b- burning too!" she wailed. "Don't just stand there, do something!"

Grasping the seriousness of the situation, Ron closed the book shut urgently and ran downstairs hoping the old man had not yet left.

"Sir! A blank book burned her hands and eyes!" he said quickly the moment his eyes found the elderly professor.

"Ah... that could happen," replied Dumbledore sadly before he flicked his wand and a long glass bottle of gooey black liquid emerged in front of them on the table. "Miss Granger needs to apply this on her eyelids and hands," he said, handing over the bottle to Ron.

He took it, thanked the teacher, and had almost turned away before he remembered something else. "Pardon me Sir but I touched it too and nothing happened to my hands. All I could see were blank pages but her eyes started to burn," he asked confused.

"That is because you are worthy enough to read the information that is held in that book, Mr Weasley. But of course, it's not time yet for you to know that which is held in those pages. So the book still appears blank to you," he explained patiently. "Miss Granger, I am afraid, is yet to prove her worth in that area. So she can neither touch nor see it without causing herself physical harm."

Ron and Harry share a confused look between them.

"Now you must run along, my boy. I am afraid the boils are not really very nice," he added and Ron left quickly with a small nod of his head in thanks.

"Here, apply this on the burns," he said hurriedly as he re-entered her room, but now she was whimpering softly with her eyes shut tight. Even the back of her palms showed the boils which, he assumed, might have been caused when she must have tried rubbing them over her eyes.

"Can I see, you idiot? Help me out!" she spat in between whimpers. Ron almost had the urge to walk away leaving her behind in whatever state she was in.

Fuming, however, he went closer and took a few drops of the salve between his fingers and rubbed them over her eyelids. She lifted up her her face as a sigh of relief left her parted lips. A few seconds later she opened her eyes to meet his blue ones. Ron glared at her with annoyance.

"Hands now!" she ordered casually in return.

He clenched his jaws and applied the ointment on both her hands, rubbing them with his long coarse fingertips as she moved uncomfortably at his touch. The boils disappeared immediately and she sighed again in relief, turning her hands back and forth to admire the unblemished skin.

"That was horrid! What was it?" she asked relieved but without even a slight hint of gratitude.

"A curse on the book. Apparently, you've got to be worthy enough to touch it," he provided corking the bottle back, not bothering to look at her any longer.

"WHAT?" she spat incredulously, evidently quite offended at his response, "So _you_ are 'worthy' enough and _I_ am not?!"

"Yeah, so it seems," he replied with a smirk himself.

"Surely the standards to measure worthiness is pretty low, I must say," she scorned before lifting her chin up in a proud way and moving ahead a few paces. "I'd rather get those burns than stoop to your level of filth anyway," she hissed cruelly, turning back slightly to watch him.

He stared at the ungrateful girl, breathing heavily to control the rage that came flooding back as he remembered everything he had heard her saying in the library weeks ago. He had a terrible urge to lift the book straight up and shove it back into her hands. But then, he remembered what she had said.

 _What if he becomes all bold during the summer and decides to snog me? Do you know how many times I have to wash my hands after we 'accidently' brush hands? Mother says all kinds of diseases grow in filth. No way am I doing that!"_

With fury almost rendering him blind, Ron shoved the bottle deep inside his pocket, and even before she noticed, his much taller form was right next to her.

"W-What are y-you doing?" she asked panic-stricken, all haughtiness from moments ago wiped off that pretty face.

"Showing you what 'filth' actually feels like, Granger," he replied in a dangerous whisper, and wrapping his palms around her upper arms, shoved her back against the wall, not very gently either. Some primitive part of his brain cheered as he pressed his body on hers to hold her in place while his hands wrapped around her jawline to lift her face up. Cutting off any protest from her, he captured her lips roughly, closing his eyes at her touch.

He could still feel her struggling feebly, squeezed between his hard form and the wall behind while he plundered her mouth, having utilised her open mouthed shock to deepen the _kiss-_ if one could even call it that. He could feel her breasts pressing against him, and his body gave a pleasurable shudder as he imagined her naked and whimpering beneath him. Groaning aloud, he ravaged her mouth recklessly, tasting every inch he could. He pulled her lower lip between his teeth and bit it softly before licking over the bite with his hot tongue. He kissed the corner of her mouth, sucking hard enough to leave her a virtual reminder before going back to those mesmerising lips and kissing them all over again just like he had always wanted to, slowly and passionately. Somewhere amidst all this, she had finally given in as her body relaxed and almost blended into his while a soft moan sounded deep within her throat.

With the fingers of his left hand still entangled in the soft curls at her nape, he dropped his mouth to her jawline and then the spot just below her ear, planting small kisses on that sweet smelling skin. A single finger traced a line along the 'V' of her neckline dipping tantalisingly close to her cleavage and Hermione drew in a sharp breath. Ron placed his mouth close to her ears and murmured softly and her small frame shuddered against him.

"Say 'Thank you', Hermione. Otherwise, I swear this 'filthy' mouth of mine will reach places from where you won't be able to get my marks off." He could feel her tremble at his words, and it was a while before she muttered a soft, stammering thanks.

With much effort, Ron pulled his fingers out of those curls and pushed himself off her, watching her panting form as he took a few steps back. Her eyes were still closed and cheeks were flushed a delicate shade of pink. Her slightly parted lips were swollen as a result of the intense snogging and a small dark spot was already visible at the edge of her mouth. With her hands clasping the hem of her dress tightly, she pressed her legs together- perhaps in an attempt to stop them from shaking? Or maybe to keep his further advances away, Ron didn't know.

"Now you know how my filthy self actually feels like, Granger," he whispered coldly before he shut the door loudly behind him.

As the door to her room banged shut, Hermione slowly slumped to the ground realising with mounting horror that she had never seen this rough side of Ron's nature before. And somehow, it both intrigued and aroused her tremendously.

* * *

 _ **A/N: I am away from home for a few days so am uploading this from my phone. If there are typos please overlook, for now, I'll edit once I am back.**_

 _ **Thanks to each one of you who read and especially those who motivated me by reviewing, following or adding this story to your favourites. Thank you guys**_

 _ **I promise I'll respond to all your reviews once I'm back home.**_

 _ **Please don't forget that review. Thanks :)**_


	7. Between Black and White

**A/n: The previous chapter should have contained a warning of what it held and I missed it. Sincere apologies. I missed it because what I had in mind was the whole picture. This chapter will explain a lot. This is not a gloss-over chapter to defend Ron; on the contrary, the previous two along with this are the three most crucial plot points I had to chalk out their characters before they start school and what eventually happens between them in the next two years.**

 **Ron is neither the boy he was in his fifth year nor the mature man of WFD. He is a conflicted teen struggling with his heart and hormones and also his identity. Hermione is not a brave, positive Gryffindor. That is what the base of the story is. It is not a black and white story but one with heavy grey tones.**

 **I am thankful to each one of you who is with me in this experiment. Thank you.**

 **All Characters belong to JKR.**

* * *

 **Chapter 7:Between Black and White**

If Ron was grumpy and quiet earlier, Harry noticed, he had gone completely silent after the day he had come down running for an antidote for the book curse. It had been more than two weeks to that incident and their monotonous routine had carried through the weeks. The bloke would go upstairs with the tray of food and come down soon. However, for some reason, unlike earlier, he did not crib about it. Many times, Harry noticed that his best mate looked particularly uneasy when the meal times arrived- not angry, neither sulky but plain uncomfortable. The chance to tease Ron, which he had so looked forward to, had lost its charm with the changed persona of the redhead. He now spoke only when spoken to, and even then, as far as possible, they were simple monosyllabic answers. Needless to say, Harry was slowly falling back into his own web of gloom. The frequent Order meetings would have been a respite but if only their involvement in it was anything more than the guard duty Ron had been assigned.

The break came with the arrival of their O. W. L results and book lists. Amidst the celebrations and plans for a Diagon Alley trip, Harry noticed the familiar tall figure silently left the room with a piece of cake and a sealed envelope that was marked as 'Hermione Granger'.

...

Walking up the forty-something steps that led up to her room, Ron felt exactly the same as he had been feeling for each minute after that incident - overburdened, guilty and ashamed. Every time he saw that spot near her lips, the one that he had marked for her as a virtual reminder, it haunted him in reverse. It was as if some animal instinct had overpowered his thoughts and even made him feel momentarily vindicated for having taken a part of what he desired from her, _against her will._ The voice had cheered inside him for hurting her like she had hurt him and for choosing the means that he knew would hurt her pride the most. He truly believed that nothing in the word would torment her more than his touch- the touch of a person who, according to her, was way below her standards in all aspects. That was exactly what he had given her. But unlike her, he could not justify his own behaviour. He knew he had wronged her, taken advantage of her helpless situation, and worst of all, disgraced both his duty as a guard as well as his Mum's values. If he hated her- well, yes, he still did, he hated himself more for proving her right about him.

He knocked on the door thrice to announce his arrival and unlike the initial days, waited a while to give the girl a scope to arrange herself just in case she... He trimmed the rest of that thought in the bud. Lying awake for nights in the past weeks he had realised that it was high time to get his act together, to keep his personal feelings aside and concentrate on the job at hand. He wasn't expecting her to forgive him; there were certain deeds that did not deserve it. He had crossed an invisible line that afternoon and that was the ugly truth. He certainly hated her just as much as before but this wasn't a moment for personal feelings of love, hate or even sexual attractions for that matter. This was war. And at least one of his tasks in it had been handed over to him. He had no clue what her utility in the war would be considering she wasn't even actually on their side, but he trusted Dumbledore. If keeping her safe from You-Know-Who was his duty, he would do it and do it well. He would keep her safe and do all to ensure she was safe from the dark side of the war and the darker side of himself.

He opened the door softly and looked cautiously just to locate her. She was standing yet again near the window and had not bothered to turn around or acknowledge his arrival in any way. Pulling his eyes away, he placed the plate down on the low stool along with her results and booklist.

"They'll go shopping for our school supplies in a couple of days. You can give me the list of things you'll need." It was the first sentence he had spoken to her after that fateful afternoon; she hadn't uttered a word either.

"The results are out?!" she asked turning around and rushed ahead to pick up the envelope. Ron moved just in time to avoid her from crashing onto his chest. Moving away and standing close to the door he watched her rip the cover impatiently. Her eyes glowed with joy as she took out the attached sheet.

"I'll be able to take all of my chosen subjects for the N. E. W. Ts!" she beamed still scrolling through her report sheet. Ron wondered how on earth she expected anything less from her results anyway.

"When are we going to get the supplies?" she asked eagerly looking up at him directly for the first time in weeks. Despite himself, his eyes were drawn to the corner of her mouth and he noticed that the mark had at least disappeared from her skin if not their memories. He looked away before answering.

" _We_ aren't going anywhere; at least not you and me. I'll need a list of everything you'll need apart from the school supplies and someone will get yours along with ours."

He met her eyes because she remained quiet. He had expected a tantrum, a sneer or a rude comment at the least. What he saw in those eyes, however, was fear and something else he could not exactly understand.

"They are leaving me here alone with _you_?" she whispered, all traces of joy from moments earlier erased from her voice.

Hermione was glad to notice that he at least had the decency to look ashamed. For weeks she had refrained from acknowledging his presence. A part of her had wanted to claw at him for his audacity, wanted to curse the hell out of him, but her self-preservative instinct had stopped her from doing either. Physically, without her wand, she was no match for him. But that wasn't all.

But that wasn't all.

Somewhere deep within she knew that despite all that she believed and told Daphne, a very tiny part of her was attracted to him. Try as she might, she couldn't deny the effect of those blue eyes that spent hours looking at her like no one else ever had. Surely she had had her own set of suitors, but Ronald Weasley had something else, something she could not exactly define, something she didn't even understand completely. But he was also broke and everything a perfect suitor wasn't supposed to be- poor, no family status or name apart from his link with Potter, and above all, he was a blood traitor from the enemy camp. The odds against him were simply too many to be overlooked just for the sake of a fluttering in the heart.

That afternoon when he kissed her he had actually fulfilled a forbidden fantasy she had once had while at Hogwarts. Weasley had spent most of that afternoon in the library while Daphne was away at Divination. Sitting at her table, Hermione had noticed him approaching and had intentionally avoided looking up for almost an hour. And yet, all during that time she had felt Ron's eyes on her. When she had finally looked up she had been shocked to notice the raw passion that was emanating from him. It was a minute perhaps before their eyes had actually met when she had glanced up to find his eyes on her lips. The moment he sensed that she had noticed he had looked away, thoroughly embarrassed, ears flaming. Her natural instinct would have been to take offence. In fact, she had _wanted_ to be annoyed. But all she had desired at that moment was to watch that handsome face come closer, feel those lips on hers, feel that gorgeous hair in between her fingers. She had wanted to know if his lips could fulfil the promise his eyes held. The blush had crept up her cheeks hadn't been a pretence. It was tied closely to the pull she felt deep in her navel before her brain took over, admonishing her in a voice similar to her mother's.

The feeling had disappeared to lie buried in the depths of all she knew was right and appropriate for her status and upbringing, returning to the surface in her dreams in the depth of the nights when her defences were at the lowest. That afternoon, his lips had given her exactly what those eyes had promised days ago. And when he had forced her to thank him she had struggled to find her voice not just because this was the Ronald she didn't quite recognise, but also because she had wanted him to continue. She had wanted him to act out those dangerous words he had threatened her with. It was all complicated and contradicted with her root beliefs. The easier route was to blame him than face her true self. Hermione knew that although she hadn't reciprocated physically, she had surrendered willingly. But Ronald did not know. His demeanour was a clear indication that he felt guilty. And this, her brain knew, was her trump card. It would be much too stupid to let this opportunity go waste.

There was a flaw in the plan, though. If he made an approach again, there was a fair chance that he would notice how her treacherous body reacted to his touch. She couldn't let that happen.

"I'll keep away from your room," he said breaking her internal musings, his voice cold but sincere.

"I still don't trust you," she spat. A _nd I don't trust myself either_ she finished in her head.

"Look, Granger, I won't deny I crossed my limit that day. But you have my word now that it won't happen ever again."

She snorted ignoring the slight hint of dismay in his words.

"What is the value of your word anyway?"

"Nothing for you perhaps, but quite a lot for me. Just like you have reminded me so many times before, I don't have anything else apart from this."

Ron felt extremely vulnerable and hated her for not only bringing out his root insecurities to the fore but also for making a mockery out of it. But after what he had done, he owed her that assurance and he deserved this humiliation. He took a deep breath focusing on his sole task, her safety.

"We both know we hate each other and that nothing will change that. But I have a task to fulfil no matter what. I assure you, whatever happened will not be repeated."

She looked at him hard noticing his steel reserve, and he did not break the gaze looking back at her determinedly with his cerulean blue eyes that she found strangely enticing. It was a while before she looked away, unable to watch any longer, realising how different those eyes looked from the ones she remembered from the library.

* * *

 _ **A/n: Thanks a tonne for reading. Please drop me a review if possible.**_

 _ **I am still posting it from my phone. Please ignore typos for now.**_


	8. A Lesson on Trust

**A/N: I would have posted this sooner but my internet connection has been down for two days now (sigh). Anyway, I really hope this chapter lives up to your expectations from this story.**

 **It's a little descriptive but sets the stage for so many things that are soon to follow. I am a little finicky when it comes to illogical situations** **in AU stories,** **hence I try keeping the logic loops** **closed** **.** **Please bear with me on that count.**

 **Loving the fact that you all are enjoying reading this story just as much as I am enjoying writing it.**

 **Happy reading and please don't forget that review**

 **All Characters belong to the fantastic JKR. This crazy plot is mine, though.**

* * *

 **Chapter 8:** **A** **Lesson on Trust**

The afternoon of 31st August found Ron and Harry lounging in the living area of Grimmauld Place. Ron had his long legs stretched out in front of him as he sat in an old high back armchair while Harry was lying across the creaky old couch.

"By this time tomorrow we will be on the train," mused Harry softly with his eyes on the chandelier above.

"Yeah... Can't wait to get out of this place myself," intoned Ron.

"What are you talking about? You have been going out for a jog in the park for weeks now!" grumbled Harry. "It's me who hasn't been allowed to set foot outside since we got here," he added grumpily.

"A half an hour jog in the park you can see from the window here? You call that a break? It's a boring substitute to flying. And what are you complaining about? You went to Diagon Alley!"

"Once. But the jog's done well to your muscles, mate. Reckon Lavender will be eager for some snogging this year."

"Well, if she can look past my clothes which seem to have shrunk again."

"Girls like that kind of stuff," responded Harry in a false serious tone before he burst out laughing.

"Girls like blokes who have their ankles peeking out of their jeans? I'm sure you've got your calculations about girls all wrong mate!" he laughed along.

"How do you reckon this year will be?" he asked seriously after a while once the laughter had died down.

"I don't really know but different, I guess." mused the black haired wizard.

"Darker."

"Yeah, definitely." he sighed. "I wonder what Dumbledore has planned for my sessions with him."

"It's no use trying to guess, is it? When have we ever understood what that old man is up to?" replied Ron as he straightened up in the chair, pulling down his slightly tight t-shirt and grumbling in an undertone.

"Are you talking about Granger?" asked Harry, pushing himself up into a sitting position as well but with his back still resting against the armrest. He was very glad that Ron had finally come down to normal, well not completely, but at least as normal as Harry had seen him before his assignment had been handed to him. He had a nagging suspicion that there was much more between his best mate and the curly-haired witch than just house rivalries. Although there was no more grumbling from Ron's end about his task, there was still a look of deep loathing that he bore towards his 'task'. Harry had no clue what to make of it and Ron was still not eager to disclose.

"No. Okay, yeah. I mean, we still haven't figured how Dumbledore expects her to turn over to our side, have we? And there is that strange book he gave her," he added softly.

Ron had brought the strange and apparently cursed book down to their room one night, and although he had no doubts what so ever, they had thought it prudent for Ron to keep the bottle of antidote ready before Harry touched it. Needless to say, there had been no incidents like with Granger. Harry found it just as Ron had: old, blank and harmless. Remembering Tom Riddle's diary, they had even tried writing on it but it seemed the sheets were charmed to repel ink. Finally, Ron had put it back in its old place.

Harry took a deep breath and watched the old grandfather's clock set against the opposite wall. _F_ _ive more hours before Ginny and rest of the family arrived._

"I am sceptical about this chamber of hers at Hogwarts," mumbled Ron, breaking his line of thought. "How on earth are we going to keep it a secret from Neville, Dean and Seamus?"

"I have no clue," he replied honestly. "Hopefully, we'll find out when she is shifted to the school today."

Dumbledore had informed them the previous night that Hermione would be moved to the school a day before the rest of the students. He had further asked Ron to find out if she preferred to take a Sleeping Draught and brought to the school by a senior Order member, or be blindfolded taken by Floo to one of the staff rooms. She was then to be escorted to the Gryffindor tower by a teacher. Ron and Harry were also required to visit the school along with her and check out the entrance to her chamber. But to keep no one from suspecting, the boys were to return back the same night and take the Hogwart's Express with the rest of the students the following day.

Ron turned to the giant clock. She had chosen the second method and although she had provided no reasons, he knew she was wary of being drugged and taken somewhere else. This way she would at least be aware (and hope for a chance at escape, perhaps?).

"I guess Kingsley should be arriving anytime now," he muttered keeping his thoughts to himself.

As if on cue, a knock sounded on the main door and the dark wizard entered the room only minutes later.

"Are we ready, boys?" he inquired as he came in while the duo pulled themselves up. Harry ran his fingers through his hair trying unsuccessfully as ever to bring his messy mop to look a little decent. Ron, meanwhile, picked up the school robe lying on the couch and put it on.

"Alright, Ron run upstairs and tie this around her eyes," Kingsley instructed handing out a black ribbon from his pocket. "It's magical and will keep her from witnessing anything of the surrounding. We still can't risk her knowing about this place. Then, you bring her down and the two of you together will Floo down to Minerva's office."

Harry nodded but Ron looked at the wizard in confusion.

"Together?"

"Yes. We can't take the risk of her stating some other destination. We could have locked the Floo and linked it only to Minerva's office but that will need Ministry approval and we can certainly do without it. So, you have to go with her," reasoned the older wizard.

Harry noticed Ron clenching his jaws but the ginger refrained from saying anything and Kingsley continued.

"Once all three of you are at Hogwarts, Minerva will take over and take you to the Gryffindor tower." The boys nodded in comprehension. "Now run along, will you?"

Ron took a few steps but then paused and turned around. "But Kingsley, she can't leave the room," he asked with his brows furrowed, remembering the time when the door had closed shut as she tried to escape.

"Ah yes. Well, she _can_ leave the room but only when _you_ willingly bring her out."

Ron left quickly feeling slightly uneasy about the whole arrangement.

...

A packed trunk lay at the foot of the bed and a smaller sling bag was on the desk. Molly had purchased Gryffindor school robes in Ginny's size and altered them accordingly for her.

Standing near the window, dressed in her high-necked Slytherin school robes, and her hair tied in a French braid that hung down her back, she looked so painfully familiar that Ron had to spend a moment clutching on to the door to get a grip on his memories. His voice came out harsher when he called.

"Are you ready?" he asked averting his eyes.

"Yes." Her voice was calm but once she turned around, he noticed she looked upset. Without thinking much about it, he extended the black ribbon towards her.

"You've got to put this over your eyes."

She took the proffered article and proceeded to picked up her bag and slung it over her shoulder. Before tying the ribbon over her eyes, however, she paused and looked up at him.

"I can't walk out of that door. Or have the Wards been lifted now?" she asked slowly, much too carefully. Although her tone was casual, Ron could make out the tiny hint of hope. He wondered where she wished to escape to anyway but guessed that it was, quite possibly, just a desire to get away from her captivity, and _him._

"The wards are still very much in place, so don't get your hopes high, Granger," he replied sternly. "You can only leave the room if I willingly take you out from here."

Hermione hoped her face did not display her disappointment. She nodded and tied the ribbon over her eyes without further questions. Instantly it got all pitch black. The cloth was definitely charmed.

"Come towards the door."

His voice floated towards her, and she walked slowly towards where she remembered the entrance to be.

"Okay, now walk out of it," he instructed from somewhere on her left. "There will be a passage to your right and around ten steps more before the staircase. There is a railing you can hold on to if you wish."

She had hardly taken a few more steps with her hands stretched ahead of her to keep her balance before she was pulled aside by a strong pair of arms. A swishing sound was followed by a loud bang and a lot of swearing.

"What the...! Bloody hell! This is supposed to work!" he groaned.

"W-What happened?" she asked as the pressure of his arms left her. With her lack of vision and his support, she felt slightly disoriented.

"The door closed again," he replied shortly. "But I was told..."

She heard him sigh, and then, his firm palm moved in to hold her right hand and she heard the soft click of the door opening again.

"Come on," he called in a very strange voice. This time they stepped out of the door easily with her hand held firmly in his. After months she felt slightly free, _slightly_.

They went down the staircase slowly and silently as Hermione tried in vain to count the number of steps. Somehow the presence next to hers was causing strange things to happen. She held on to the railing with one hand while his long fingers were wrapped around the other, and she was left wondering if there was some kind of magic that bound her to him in order to prevent her from escaping. But was such a magic suppose to make her heart beat fast or even cause the tingling sensation that ran up from where their skin touched? She wasn't really sure.

"A passage now," came his voice from her right and the railing ended leaving her blinded self to rely solely on his voice and the support of his hand.

"We'll walk through a door and reach the Floo. Keep to-" he paused briefly, "-your right."

A door opened and in they walked hand in hand. She wondered if there were other people because there possibly was the sound of the scrapping of a chair. Unconsciously, she moved towards the sound only to stub her foot on what was definitely the leg of a table.

" _Right_ not left," he said not too rudely before pulling her towards himself and she caught a whiff of his cologne as the sides of their body touched. She hoped that the dizziness had everything to do with walking in a strange place blindfolded and nothing to do with the young guy she was supposed to dislike.

"Stop!" he called suddenly and she stumbled slightly and clung on to his hand harder to maintain her balance. There was silence for a while before he spoke again.

"I enter the Floo first and you follow me. Wait for my word."

She wondered why they could not open the blindfold now.

"Open this," she told him indicating the cloth. "I'll hurt myself." There was a pause before he answered as if he was receiving instructions from someone else in the room.

"I can't, and you won't hurt yourself either. Trust me, just do as I say," he replied instead.

She huffed and lifted her hand behind, but the knot which she surely hadn't tied so tightly did not budge. His hand left hers for a minute, and there was a sound like someone adjusting himself in a small place before both her hands were captured in his.

"Lift your leg, yes, careful. Okay, now get up. Mind your head."

She could feel the walls closer to her left. The floo space was much too cramped for two grown up people. She realised she was facing him with her face almost touching his chest which seemed to radiate heat, _or maybe it was her face?_

"Turn around slowly," he said softly and much too close, "and move towards my left. I mean, move to your right." She scuffled to adjust herself and follow the confusing instructions as he held onto her right hand.

"This is crazy," she declared in a voice she hoped sounded annoyed.

"I know." He sounded honest, though.

"Hold on," he murmured again, and then she felt the cool effect of the green flames she knew well as his voice got muffled in the sound of the fire.

The uncomfortable feeling of Floo travel was heightened by the effect of their bodies pressing close in the tight spot, and Hermione was sure she would have scratched her face against the rough walls when his left arm had let go of her. But they only wrapped around her waist pulling her closer to him. Her right palm was now encased in his other hand. Despite her uniform underneath the heavy robes, his touch seemed to set her on fire as if touching her bare skin. In an effort to control the shivering that arose from deep within, she clung on to the very person causing it.

The spinning stopped finally, and Hermione was mortified to realise that she was holding his arm tightly in both hers, her body pressed firmly into his. Despite the oddity of their surrounding, she could feel the heat rising up her cheeks and sparks that ran down to her spine. However, Ronald pulled his hand away without warning and moved out of the floo.

"Miss Granger, Mr Weasley," said a familiar voice before she could comprehend him leaving.

"Professor McGonagall!" she exclaimed breathing rapidly.

"Afternoon, Professor," he responded next to her.

A softer hand was extended towards her, and she managed to step out of the fireplace.

"May I please open the blindfold now?" she asked.

She heard the lady heave a sigh. "I am sorry we brought you here like this. And yes, you may open them."

Hermione quickly began work on the blinds while she heard the sound of someone else approaching through the floo.

"Good afternoon, Professor." said a new voice.

"Afternoon to you too"

 _Harry Potter._

"Miss Granger?" asked the witch as Hermione still struggled.

"I can't untie it," she responded frustrated and soon a softer pair of hands worked on the blindfold before a spell was aimed at it.

"I am afraid it's not opening," said the professor in a confused voice.

"Maybe it's to avoid her seeing the location of the Common Room, Professor." suggested Potter and Hermione groaned internally.

"Makes no sense. She already knows it. But anyway, if it's charmed that way we can't do much about it now. We'll just have to guide you all the way, Miss Granger," said the elderly witch. Even without being able to see her face, Hermione could make out that the lady wasn't happy with the arrangement.

The walk was long one this time with the Professor guiding her. Grudgingly she found a tiny part of her was disappointed it wasn't Weasley. It was quite a while before she heard a female voice say "Password?" and their teacher replied much too softly for her to hear.

"Mind your head and enter."

The witch helped her through a small door post which, the change in the temperature was evident. It was much warmer in here and the way their footsteps echoed, she assumed the room to be circular. They went up a flight of steps into yet another space and she heard something like the swish of curtains or perhaps bed curtains open before the deputy Headmistress spoke again.

"Place your palm on the wall Mr Weasley," instructed the teacher, and soon, she felt a gentle breeze of fresh air hit her face.

"Miss Granger, enter carefully. Mr Weasley, you too."

Hermione entered through what, she assumed, was a stone archway, and as soon as her foot hit the floor beyond it, the blind fell off. She placed her hand in front of her eyes to guard against the sudden brightness and then squinted, eager to see where she had been brought.

It was a big circular living room with a large window that faced the Forbidden Forest. She could see the Quidditch grounds on the far right. She noted a door to her right and assumed it to be her bedroom. A small room opened to the left. The whole place looked bright with all the light seeping in and was quite a contrast to the Slytherin common room. Hermione couldn't deny that she loved it.

"Your new living quarters, Miss Granger," said the old witch kindly as Hermione gave her a weak smile.

"How will I attend my classes Professor?" she asked getting to the point quickly.

"Ronald Weasley will provide you with all the assignments for the day, even on the subjects he doesn't take. Any queries or doubts, address it to the concerned teacher and hand it to him, I'll get the answers sent back to you. He is your sole contact point with the school. I hope you understand that it's all for your safety. It's much too dangerous for anyone to know that you are still alive."

She nodded her head solemnly before thinking of something else.

"How will I do my practical for my classes here? And I don't have my wand either."

"All your things including your wand have been brought to your room." said the lady kindly. "There is a small room towards your left which will serve the purpose of a classroom. I'll send your routine tomorrow and you will find that it will transform into an appropriate class according to your schedule along with all the things you need. The board in the class will show the notes written on it by the Professor taking the class. You won't be able to hear the teacher speak, however."

"Thank you, Professor." She looked around in awe, realising for the first time, the effort that was being taken not just to keep her safe but ensure her education continued well too. She couldn't help feel a sense of gratitude for the headmaster.

"Professor, won't the people outside be able to see this place?"

Hermione turned around to find _him_ standing near the window.

"No, Mr Weasley. The whole place is charmed invisible and undetectable."

McGonagall gave Hermione a kind nod before turning around to leave before she paused.

"I almost forgot. Just one more thing, Miss Granger. I want you to keep this," she said flicking her wand. An empty parchment materialised which was handed over to her.

"Due to the unprecedented circumstances and this arrangement, no one will be able to contact you apart from Ron Weasley. But in any case, if you feel unsafe, for whatever reason, pen it down here and I will get to know immediately. Remember this is for an emergency only," she said sternly to emphasise it was not to be used lightly. Hermione understood that the elderly lady was uncomfortable about keeping two young teenagers in such scandalous proximity without any adult supervision. She turned to see the young man standing at a distance, knowing well that he had heard it too. But the only expression on Ronald's face was a cold brazen look as he gazed at the forest outside.

"Mr Weasley, we leave now," she called and he turned around, and without a word to her, walked out of the room.

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 _ **A/N: I had planned on answering to each one of you here, but because of the stupid net connection problem, I am just keeping it all typed and ready to be uploaded as soon as I can. My responses will follow the next chapter.**_

 _ **Just because I have not replied yet, please don't feel that I don't enjoy getting your reviews and PMs. I just LOVE them. I'll reply as soon as I**_ _ **possible**_ _ **.**_


	9. School Begins

**A/n: Once again, thanks to each one of you. Good to see this story of mine catching the fancy of so many readers.**

 **I'm sorry for the delayed post, this chapter was giving me a bit of a trouble.**

 **Sincerely hope you all like it.**

 **Happy Reading! And please don't forget that review!**

* * *

 **All character rights belong to JKR.**

 **Chapter 9: School Begins**

Sitting amongst his family at dinner later that night, Ron couldn't help but feel a little restless. He had a weird urge to run up to her room and check on her again but he knew that the vacant place would only increase his anxiety like the last time he had been there after returning from Hogwarts. So he stayed put instead, watching his family and the other Order members who sat around the dinner table. He watched without really noticing how Harry and Ginny were busy chatting quite oblivious to the presence of others, he saw his mother passing around the food, trying her best to look cheerful although her worry lines were more pronounced now that it was the time they returned to school.

His thoughts kept returning back to the girl he had dropped off at school today. The walk from her room to the Floo at McGonagall's office was a memory he both wished to forget and yet cherish forever. The contradictory feelings of love and hate seemed to be raging a battle for domination inside him. Try as he might, he could not forget the feeling of having her close, almost in his arms. Despite all the fire that crackled at her touch, it also reminded him painfully of everything she thought about him. He wondered why after all that she said and felt about him, she clung on to him as they travelled. Perhaps her only intention was to keep herself safe, and he was just reading more into it. Instinct, that was all it was. Just like he had pulled her close without actually thinking much about it, _on instinct_. He only wanted to ensure that she wouldn't hurt herself due to the visual limitation she was forced to bear with. His actions bothered him just as much as her reactions. 

Ron kept reminding himself that whatever he had done was just a natural extension of his responsibility as her protector. But deny as vehemently as his brain might, his heart still knew, on some level, it was also an act born out of his deepest desire to be so much more than just her assigned guard. He sighed and sipped deeply from his mug of butterbeer wishing it was a stronger drink, something that would help him to stop thinking for a while, and stop feeling too perhaps.

He yearned to forget the events because it was such a strong reminder of what he had wished for and what just wasn't meant to be. _What he did not want anymore_ , he reminded himself firmly. He could not walk down that lane of doom again; it was much too familiar, much too agonising.

He exhaled tiredly, almost craving to be the carefree Ron he was months ago but she had successfully destroyed that part of him forever, hadn't she? She finished his innocent fantasies of love by striking them with the dagger of harsh reality. There was simply no logic in falling into that trap again no matter how enticing the provocations of the situation were. Hermione Granger might be dependent on him now, but that was just by a fucking twist of fate, something beyond her control. He just couldn't risk involving his heart in this task. No matter how seriously he took his duty of keeping her safe, no matter what he gave this assignment, once she was out of the confinement and free to choose her will, he knew, she would walk away without a backward glance at him, without even a word of thanks. And once again, he, Ron Weasley, would be left behind to gather the shattered pieces of his heart. It was highly likely that she would leave with a few more choice words this time if only to dig the stake in deeper. He didn't really need that, did he? The crucial part here was that it would be too foolish to trust her with his heart again, reasoned his brain. His rude exterior was the only shield to protect his damaged self, his sole defence to keep her away from his thoughts as the task brought them closer. As it is, she was way closer than he would like to keep her for the sake of his sanity. He hated the pull he felt for her, the intense need to love her, to be loved back just as strongly, the unbearable desire make her his. But he could not let his defences down. He simply could not risk showing his true self. He was sure she was shrewd enough to use him to her advantage, to manipulate him, and then tear him apart again.

Drawing himself out of his self-inflicted misery, he pushed the empty mug away. Concentrating on the people around him and the conversations he had been missing, Ron poured himself a goblet of pumpkin juice and joined the discussion.

...

"You are really barmy, Harry! You should have told me at least before going off sneaking in Malfoy's compartment!" he bellowed indignantly as they changed into their pyjamas once they had reached their dormitory post the school reopening feast.

"I didn't reckon he would notice my sneakers now, did I?" responded Harry as he rubbed the dried blood off his face with his sleeve.

"I don't really understand this theory of yours about Malfoy being a Death Eater, mate." he whispered sitting down on Harry's bed and looking around cautiously.

"I swear, Ron, the way he was talking, first to Burgins and now to Pansy, I'm pretty sure he has been initiated into the ranks," replied his friend sitting down next to him.

"But he is too young!" he argued.

"Granger is young too and he wanted her in!" reasoned Harry carefully.

"Yes, but _she_ is brilliant. What use can... have from Malfoy? He's still at school!"

"I don't know," mused Harry. "Maybe, he needs a spy?" he added half-heartedly.

"He has got Snape for that, hasn't he? " questioned Ron.

"Maybe he needs a spy among the students, perhaps to spy on us Ron?" he reasoned.

"Harry, I really think you are reading too much into this. That git is simply making up stories to sound all important."

Harry heaved a sigh. Even if he couldn't convince Ron, he had a nagging suspicion that the Slytherin was up to something.

"How's Granger?" he asked suddenly and watched as Ron tensed.

"I haven't seen her yet," he grumbled under his breath, and then, getting up, pulled the curtains apart and sat himself down on his own bed. He was about to close the curtains shut when Harry called again.

"Ron?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you fancy her?" he asked carefully, watching the redhead closely. He almost got his reply when the boy fidgeted uncomfortably and averted his eyes. However, his voice was firm when he replied.

"No."

"You're sure?"

This time Ron looked up to meet his eyes and Harry was sure he had never seen that amount of hatred in those blue eyes ever before, or that amount of pain for that matter.

"Me falling in love with a highbred, aristocratic, snobbish Slytherin will be extremely stupid and futile, don't you think so?" he asked with a smile that did not reach his eyes.

"Goodnight, mate…" said the redhead and closed the curtain shut before Harry could grasp the underlying meaning of that sentence.

"Good night, Ron," whispered Harry almost to himself.

...

"Your class schedule," he said in a flat voice as he dropped the rolled-up parchment on her table the next morning and turned around immediately to walk out. McGonagall had handed him the scroll and asked him to quickly hand it over to her before he went for his Advance Potion class with their new Potions Professor, Horace Slughorn.

"Where were you all of yesterday?" she asked, a little annoyed as she picked up the scroll and watched his retreating form.

"That's none of your concern, Granger," he replied taking long strides, eager to leave.

"Of course it is!" she shrieked back, "You are my only link with the school! What if I needed something? What if-"

"Did you need anything?" he asked pausing mid-stride and taking her in with an ice-cold stare.

"Wh-What?"

"I asked, what was it that you required?"

"W-Well n-nothing! B-but, that's beside the point! I _might_ have! And you should have checked anyway!" she retorted, slightly off footed but not ready to back out just yet.

He took a deep breath and turned around to face her completely.

"I suppose you are getting your meals directly in here and they being provided at the same time and way and ours?"

"Well, y-yes," she stuttered.

"And, you have everything else you need here? I get your assignments back and forth, right?"

"Yes," she responded trying to figure out where he was going with this.

"And you are safer here at Hogwarts than any place else, correct?"

"Of course, yes! But why are you asking me these stupid questions anyway?" she fumed.

"Because I am trying to figure out what other 'needs' you might have to wish to see _me_ for, Granger?" he spat with the hint of a scowl and she glared right back at him.

"Company perhaps, Weasley? Do you have the faintest idea how extremely boring and frustrating it is all by myself?" she yelled this time, her voice cracking midway.

"Wow… you must be really lonely to want _my_ company." he chuckled bitterly. She cringed internally at his insinuation and waited for him to retort with something meaner but he simply stood, watching her.

"I'll see you after class," he said finally and rushed away after a glance at the clock on the table.

...

The day went by pretty normally except for Harry securing a tattered old potion book from the store cupboard and also a vial of Felix Felicis during potions as an award for topping the class assignment. It left Ron feeling slightly grumpy. Malfoy seemed to seethe with anger at Harry's achievement too, which Harry took as another signal to indicate that he was up to something. Ron personally thought that it just indicated that Malfoy was his normal self. He would be more worried if the Slytherin had taken to Harry's win casually.

It was almost evening when he went back to their room while Harry left for his first session with Dumbledore. Placing his bag on the bed he lay down, and drawing the curtains shut, locked them with a spell. He looked at the stone wall to his left. Who would even imagine that he had a person hiding behind his own bed? Carefully, he touched the spot at the centre and an archway opened up noiselessly. Picking up his bag, he walked in.

"Granger?" he called looking around the empty living area. The setting sun was casting a soft glow in the silent room.

"Ro- _Weasley_?" came her reply from somewhere on his right, and soon, she walked out. She was wearing a deep blue woollen dress today which he thought might have belonged to Ginny or Tonks. She had transfigured it, though. Now it had long sleeves and the length of it flared out from her waist down till it reached her ankles. She had also given it a high neckline. The dress fit her like a glove, accentuating her breasts and clinging to her narrow waist. Her hair was bunched up on her head in a messy knot that was held together by a long pin, tendrils of her hair falling and framing her face. He had no clue how a person could be so covered and still look so alluring at the same time.

"I got your assignments," he declared averting his eyes, and pulling out multiple rolls of parchments, dropped them on the table.

"Oh great!" she replied enthusiastically and bending, down picked them up and carried them to the smaller room that McGonagall had said was her study area. For a moment, his eyes roved over her shapely bottom as she bent low, and he berated himself for acting like a horny teenager, which his brain reminded, was exactly who he was. She came back soon with a long parchment and self-inking quill.

"I thought you could tell me what else happened in the classes since I can't hear the teachers," she declared, sitting down on a couch and looking up expectantly at his standing form.

He groaned aloud. _For Merlin sake, he had just finished his classes for the day and now she wanted him to revise?_

"Well, you are getting the notes they write on the board. Who cares what they say?" he retorted, moving away to stand at the large window instead.

"You can't be serious, Weasley! Their lectures are so valuable! How can I even complete my assignments without knowing what they explained? The teachers don't go about writing everything on the board, do they?!" she asked incredulously.

"Look, I don't remember everything they say, okay?"

"Well then, you must have noted down something! Show me your notes."

He looked at her angrily and stomped his way back. Pulling out a journal, he shoved it into her hands. "Here." he spat and walked back again. Looking out he could roughly see the Hufflepuff team practising on the Quidditch pitch.

She flipped through the few pages of unruly scribbles before closing it shut and dropping it loudly on the table. "You call these notes? They are rubbish! How did you even pass your O. W. L. s?" she scorned, standing up as more locks came out of her bun to frame her face.

Ron huffed his way back to where she was, and picking up the notebook, threw it inside his bag roughly.

"I am leaving," he declared looking down at the petite witch in front of him.

"No, you are not! You are not leaving till we sort this out!" she screeched breathing heavily, anger flaming in those big brown eyes.

"There is nothing to sort out, Granger. I've given you everything I've got. Looks like it's not up to your standards. Guess what? That's all I have. Take it, or leave it," he hissed before turning away.

"What are you talking about?" she asked, slowly this time.

"Of course I'm talking about the notes! What else do you think I am talking about?" he asked without conviction and started to walk away without waiting for her answer.

She took quick paces to reach him. "Ronald, wait!" she called, placing her hand on his wrist and Ron stopped immediately and jerked his hand away.

"Don't you dare call me that, Granger. It's Weasley for you, only _Weasley_. And don't ever touch me. I am filth, remember? You don't want the germs of my poverty on you now, do you?" he hissed, fury radiating off him in waves. Rather than be intimidated she moved away fuming.

"You didn't remember that when you held me, did you?" she retorted angrily, although her brain furiously fought for her to shut up. It was way off topic anyway.

"I never knew you would choose to fall down the stairs and break your neck rather than have me holding your hand and help you. I'll remember it next time."

"I-I didn't mean that!" she replied helplessly as his eyes bore into her. The memory of his arms around her did strange things to her body. A look into those mesmerising eyes of his and the image of his tall form encasing her forcefully into his arms came flooding back to her. Suddenly her body ached to reach up to him and let those lips claim hers again. She wondered how it would feel to taste his mouth like he had tasted hers, how it would feel to allow those hands to touch her everywhere, to have his expert lips reach the other sensitive areas of her body. She looked away quickly, fearing her eyes would betray the lust and the longing. With a shaky hand, she pulled out the hairpin, allowing her thick mane to tumble down her back and act as a curtain to her face that was burning now.

"Look I just want the class notes, okay?" she said very softly.

"And I've told you I don't have anything apart from what's in the journal," he replied, ice dripping from his words.

She licked her lips that suddenly were very dry. "Then I think I'll write to Professor McGonagall. Maybe she can help out. Wait for a while and I'll give you a note to give to her."

She did not wait for a reply as she walked away. Suddenly she wanted him to leave. It was sheer torture to have him this close. Penning down a quick request, she decided that she hated her body for being such a traitor.

She handed him the note without looking at his eyes, and he had almost left when she called back.

"Who won the Felix Felicis at Potions today? I remember that was mentioned as a prize on the board."

He turned around and gave her a wicked grin. "Harry," he smirked.

Hermione was sure he thoroughly enjoyed her surprised annoyance before walking out.

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 _ **A/N: Well ,I know the track of this story is bringing out so many different kinds of views. I am glad that the loving the story bit is common for all though :D**_

 _ **I wish there was a way to discuss with all of you simultaneously. Any suggestions?**_

 _ **Thanks for reading. Looking forward to your reviews :)**_


	10. The Solution

**A/N: Apologies in advance for a long note.**

 **This chapter, just like the previous one gave me a bit of a tough time and I had to write and scrap two drafts before I was satisfied.**

 **A specific dialogue in here came thanks to notsing's review for the previous chapter. Honestly I had not really thought of Sirius's mirror and while that is a fantastic idea I needed to stick to my solution for the story to proceed further and hence debunk it. Does add more logic to the narration so thanks a ton girl!**

 **I am ever so thankful to all my readers who have appreciated this story and motivate me to give it the best shot I can.**

 **A short mention here about two guest reviews, one saying that the reader hates this Ron and the other applauding me for the way he is.**

 **Well I did want a rude, snappish Ron for this story and I do love him that way. Though I will not say that he is treating Hermione very well but as I have said before, I am enjoying enhancing their not so pleasant traits, Ron with his anger and insecurity issues, Hermione with her self-righteousness, high headedness. My previous story had a Ron who was mature to handle his anger and feelings and concentrate only on Hermione. Here it's a different situation, different story hence the difference in their characterization.**

 **Thanks to each one of you for reading. Please don't forget to review! Thanks!**

* * *

 **All characters,props and places mentioned here belong to JKR. No copyright infringement intended.**

 **Chapter 10: The Solution**

"Why do you think McGonagall wants to see us?" mused Harry as they navigated through the crowd of students walking into the Great Hall for lunch as they walked in the opposite direction towards their House Head's chambers.

"I don't know. But I am sure it's about the note." Sulked Ron as Harry looked up at him in confusion.

"What note?"

"The one Miss Know-it-all has sent McGonagall. She is not happy with just reading off the board during classes, now she wants to hear the lectures too. I swear if I am forced to take notes that will pacify Granger, I will pick up my trunk and leave."

Harry looked away, partly to avoid coming face to face with a group of giggling girls and partly to avoid openly chuckling at Ron's comment. For some reason, he found Ron's annoyance with Hermione Granger highly amusing. But of course Ron would not be very pleased to hear that.

They entered the assistant Headmistress's chambers with Ron grumbling under his breath and were surprised to find the Headmaster seated on a high back chair.

"Ah Mr. Weasley, Mr. Potter." Called the elderly witch and offered them a couple of chairs which they occupied after greeting the two teachers. Harry noticed that the Gryffindor Head was looking extremely conflicted as she took a seat next to Dumbledore.

"So Miss Granger has expressed the desire to be allowed to hear the lectures too?" asked the wizened old man and his colleague nodded slowly in affirmation.

"Miss Granger feels that she is losing out a major section of her education by missing out the instructions that the Professors are imparting verbally."

"Well I am sure Mr. Weasley can assist her by sharing his notes with her?" suggested the Headmaster and Harry noticed Ron's frown made an appearance again, but it was Professor McGonagall who replied.

"Well Albus, it seems Miss Granger is not very satisfied with Mr. Weasley's notes, she wants to hear the lecturers in first hand if possible." She added uncertainly. "I am not sure if that is actually possible though." She muttered to herself though it was loud enough for all to hear.

"Well I am not really surprised, am I? I shouldn't really expect her to be satisfied with anyone's notes actually, except for her own perhaps." Said the Headmaster slowly, his palms closed together as if in prayer and held under his chin.

"I am afraid I'll have to reject her request. We have charmed her blackboard to mirror on the ones in the classrooms and scheduled the timing with her timetable. But this..."

"Professor, Sirius gave me a two way mirror to communicate with him." Provided Harry haltingly, the memory of that piece of object still haunted him, if only he had checked it once before... He took a deep breath to swallow the pain. "May be we can use something like that?"

"No Harry, it will be much too odd for Ronald to pull out a mirror and place it on his desk each time and there is also a risk of someone noticing her reflection in it." replied Dumbledore.

"Do you think it is even possible Albus?"

"Getting her to hear the lectures? Well there might be a way Minerva." He replied and the rest of the occupants in the room watched him anxiously.

Getting up from his chair, Dumbledore began pacing the length of the room submerged in his thoughts while the rest three looked between each other, wondering what ingenious idea he would come up with this time.

"Professor, I don't really understand, she has the whole lot of books, is getting to attend the classes and even clarify her doubts and submit assignments. Why can't she be satisfied with that?" grumbled Ron finally.

"Well Mr. Weasley there are some students who consider education and learning to be of greatest importance and are not satisfied till they make the best possible effort to enhance their knowledge." She explained as if clarifying a Transfiguration doubt for the class.

"And as a student of Hogwarts it is her right to demand as much help in mastering her skills as she deems necessary. As teachers we are obligated to provide her the same. " added Dumbledore as he stopped pacing and joined them again.

"Minerva, I think it's time for us to procure another Pensive." He told his colleague. Harry and Ron looked at each other dumbstruck. Courtesy Harry's sessions and previous encounters with the article, both the boys knew what it was and how it was used.

"But Albus, you really can't mean it! Memories are too powerful objects to be played around with and that too by children!" she gasped.

"Harry and Ron have already dealt with things that are deemed dangerous for not just children but adult wizards as well, Minerva."

"I know, and it's really very brave of them and also very stupid. That doesn't mean you of all people, will encourage them to do that again and again!"

"Really Minerva, it's the simplest solution. Mr. Weasley will just have to ensure that he provides her with only the memories of his classes for each day. Miss Granger can look through them and take necessary notes and then Ronald will just have to retrieve the memory back from the pensive." He explained with a smile that twinkled in his piercing blue eyes.

"You both just have to ensure to keep your conversation and actions during classes restricted to class work. Do not discuss anything she is not supposed to know yet." He directed the boys as if the decision was already finalized.

"Albus, you seriously must think it over. Ronald has to be very specific in giving her just the memories of the classes and nothing else!"

"Well I am sure you will guide him on how to do that Minerva dear. You can take the pensive from my chambers and practice while I write to the Ministry for a new one." He replied with a smile.

"I'll suggest you two rush for lunch now. Mr Weasley I'll see you after class today." Professor McGonagall told the boys. It was evident on her features that she wasn't exactly convinced with the solution. Once the two had left, she closed the door and paced back to where Dumbledore was patiently waiting for her with a sparkle in his eyes.

"Albus, I want to know where you are going with this." She asked her colleague sternly. "First you give the responsibility of the girl to Ronald, putting them in such close quarters and now _you are giving her a Pensive with his memories?_ You do realize she is still not on our side really, don't you? Do you realize what danger you are putting Ronald in and all of us too by giving her access to his memories after all that he knows about Potter? She is a brilliant witch and her parents' allegiance was with the Dark Lord!"

"A little trust Minerva is what I request from you." Replied the Headmaster patiently. "Trust in my decisions, I do what is best for all of us."

"Of course I trust you Albus! But..."

"Trust Ronald, he is much stronger a wizard under that shell of insecurity he carries. And he is the only one who can bring Miss Granger to our side."

Dumbledore noted that his colleague was eying him calculatingly.

"What do you mean by that?" she asked.

He took a deep sigh. "What decides our actions Minerva?" he asked.

"Many factors but mainly situations and our inherent nature that guides our conscience."

"True, very true. But there is one other factor. Bonds with others."

"Yes."

"Very often our actions are determined by events that have happened in the past, things that might not have been exactly in our control. These determine the situation we are in today. And then there is our conscience, the ability to identify the implications of our actions for ourselves and for others, the ability to differentiate between right and wrong and take a call to choose the right path with the future in mind. Above all, courage needed to do the right thing that stems from the bond we share for others. That is what differentiates Voldemort and Harry, one has a bond with only himself and the other is ready to walk towards a very difficult destiny if only to ensure the safety of the ones he love or revenge that ones he shares a bond with. So more than the situation, it is our bond with others that play a crucial role in what we become. Miss Granger has no bonds left, she needs a strong pull to bring her to our side and keep her here despite the extremely difficult choices she will have to make in the near future. "

McGonagall looked at Dumbledore in awe.

"Why did you choose Ronald and not Harry for this?" she asked softly.

"Because what Ronald can give her, Harry cannot." He replied cryptically and waving a small goodbye, left the room.

* * *

Much later that night, Ron came inside the vacant dormitory and closing the curtains shut, made his way towards her chambers.

She was nowhere around and her bedroom door was closed, so he pulled out the scrolls of her assignments and placed them on the table before turning away. He had no wish to see her, not today, not anytime soon. Although Harry has assured that she would not be privy to the thoughts his memory self would be having at a particular point and she would just get to see the happenings as an outsider, he still felt uneasy providing her access to his memories and no it wasn't what others feared. He had been told by McGonagall how the extracting of the memory worked. He would just have to focus on a particular time span and pull it out of his thoughts and place it in the pensive for her to see. They had practiced it a few times with the Professor constantly reminding him to keep all memories of his adventures with Harry locked up and concentrate just on mundane school stuff. He had got it right the third time, the previous two had been fiascos with McGonagall getting to hear some boy jokes they had shared during lunch that day and another one where he had used a particularly specific expletive as they walked out of Snape's defence class. But then it had been easy, maybe because he figured what parts of his memories he did not for his professor to see. But this was different. With Granger, it would be an everyday affair of sharing his day's happenings with her, giving a piece of his life for her to scrutinize and observe.

"I was waiting for you, you're late."

He turned around to find her standing at the door to her bedroom, wearing the same sleeping gown that she had been rescued in.

"Your assignments are on the table." He motioned and began to walk away.

"Wait!" she called and as she walked towards him, she picked up a quill from a small table and held it between her lips, her hands going up in her loose hair, bunching them up into an untidy knot and securing them in place with the quill. Ron watched mesmerised, the way those long locks moved behind her before she pulled them in a knot, her hands rising up that caused her breasts to become more prominent against those laces, the way the quill was held in between her pink kissable lips, the way she scrunched her nose as she pushed the quill inside the knot of hair, tendrils already coming loose and framing her face.

"Did you give my note to Professor McGonagall?" she asked and he looked away, the momentary softness disappearing behind the cold shades that came over his features.

"Yes."

"And?" she asked impatiently.

"You'll get the solution tomorrow. So try being a little patient and let me go. Thanks to you I've had a tiring day." He spat and walked away.

* * *

 _ **A/N: The next chapters will be longer I promise. This is more of a filler one.**_

 _ **I have been horribly unresponsive to my fantastic reviewers and I am so sorry for that!**_

 _ **gogoldel: Thank you for so many fantastic reviews. What can I say? It is such a pleasure sharing my stories with you all.**_

 _ **guest reviewer chap 8: I am so happy you are loving this Ron. I'm enjoying writing him this way to be honest.**_

 _ **guest reviewer 2 chap 8: Err... he is going to be like this for quite a while, he hates her you see?**_

 _ **mmanjari14: I updated just after your comment.**_

 _ **guest reviewer chapter 9: Thanks, yes much more angst in store and some other things as well.**_

 _ **Zalini: thanks for this and the previous fab reviews. I really wish I could post the whole thing together too, because I honestly love sharing this story as much as you guys love reading it. But that will delay the update horribly LOL! Thanks again**_

 _ **nirdoodle: Oh loads of angst for this one, rest assured. I love them bickering away. It's so much fun to write!**_

 _ **notsigh: I absolutely agree with you on this and also on a previous review where you said that both of them are equally responsible for delaying themselves from getting together. Ron is lazy but he is not a bad student. I feel many in the fandom simply overlook his strengths and overemphasize his weaknesses. He is often made to look like a hot headed fool and I so despise that .Thanks for the mirror point btw.**_

 _ **arnab1995: First of all thank you for favouriting this story and taking the time to review. I hope I'll be able to hold your interest in this piece till the end.**_


	11. To Be or Not to Be

**A/N: Thank you all for the fab reviews. My hubby dear is hogging the laptop and so I'm posting from the phone. Will post all my replies here tomorrow.**

 **Looking forward to those reviews. Thanks a tonne to all my readers.**

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 **All characters and props belong to JKR.**

 **Chapter 11:** **To Be or Not to Be**

He sat on the living room couch watching a faint glow emanating from the stone basin as the silvery vapours swirled inside it. The sun had set hours ago. In fact, it had been quite a while since he had been waiting for her in her empty quarters. Finally, she emerged from the Pensive, still clad in her school uniform although the front of her robe was unbuttoned to show the shirt and pleated skirt underneath. Her wand was dangling from her hand and she looked as if in a trance.

He watched silently as she stumbled a little to catch her balance and then without even glancing at the couch where he sat, walked ahead towards her bedroom.

"You've literally started living in the Pensive, Granger." he said softly and noticed her turn around in shock at his voice, the wand tumbled out of her hands and dropped at her foot with a loud clutter.

"When did you arrive?" she asked averting her eyes, bending low instead to pick up the dropped article. He did not miss how she kept her back at him as she moved to the table after stuffing the wood inside her pocket. She poured water from a pitcher into a goblet and drank deeply. Even after she had replaced the empty goblet back, her hand briefly appeared near her face. Once she turned he noticed that the moist marks of hastily wiped tears were still faintly visible on her cheeks.

"I've been waiting for you for a while now." he replied while she came towards him, pulling her robe fronts together at the same time and sat down on the second couch.

"What brings you here Weasley?" she asked meeting his eyes. Her voice was cracked and it was evident she was still fighting tears but unwilling to let him see.

"I haven't seen you in a while. It's been, what fifteen days, since you've got that thing over there?" He asked indicating the Pensive. For the first few days, she had eagerly awaited his arrival. From the fourth or the fifth perhaps, he had found an empty vial and a note in small and neat handwriting on the centre table, requesting him to transfer the memories in it and also leave her assignments along with it. She had been absent in person and Ron had noticed silvery vapours filled the stone basin. The scene had been just the same when he had returned later in the night to collect the memories back. This time a small note of thanks and completed assignment scrolls accompanied the vial containing his memories. She was literally immersed in her own thoughts.

The story had been the same ever since. At first he had been glad not to have to see her but eventually, he had got curious _or perhaps a tad bit worried?_ So today once Harry had left for Dumbledore's office, he had come straight in here.

"How does it even matter to you where I've been spending my time?" she asked curtly but it was way too easy to mark the sadness underlying that show of indifference.

"I-" he began but stopped as if rethinking his words.

"It makes no sense to live in one's memories Granger," he said finally and looking into those mesmerising blue eyes she was surprised to find no trace of hatred but only genuine concern. For some unknown reason, it made her heart constrict even further. It was getting even more difficult to keep the force of tears that was fighting for release in check.

"It makes a hell lot of sense if that's the only place where I have people who care," she answered. What did she care for his mocking remarks now? It was the truth. Dumbledore had undoubtedly provided for her safety and well-being but as a human, she craved company, craved to be actually cared for, to be loved; things that neither these stone walls nor her cold books could provide.

"So you are reliving your own memories?" he asked, watching her curiously.

"Yes. Watching my parents, my friends…"

She noticed him taking a long, hard look at her. Those eyes appeared to be calculating to figure out any discrepancy, maybe searching for a lie?

"What?" she asked annoyed. _Was he really assuming that she was faking her grief?_

"Nothing." He replied averting his eyes from her and looked ahead.

"Why are you here?" she asked again impatiently.

"I was wo- … I haven't seen you in around ten days, Granger. I had to check on you," he replied briskly.

"You have seen me now. Why are you still here?" She didn't really want him to leave. But she couldn't figure out his actual intentions or the reason for the change in his attitude for that matter and it bothered her greatly. If he was here just to taunt and throw nasty comments at her, she wished he'd leave her alone. She'd rather brood in solitude rather than have hateful company.

Ron let out a sigh and stretched his long legs in front of him, crossing them at the ankle and rested his hands behind his head before he answered.

"You'll do better in the company of real people rather than flashes of past."

"So you are concerned about me now? Why?"

"Don't flatter yourself. I'm not concerned, just doing my duty. If you go insane during my watch, it doesn't work well for my reputation." He added with malice, but she noticed the familiar expression of loathing that accompanied his words was missing. Hermione realised with extreme surprise that his angry words were an act, a superficial show of hatred, at least this time. He really was concerned...

"You haven't given me the memories about the class work yet." She said indicating the empty vial.

"I'm still here. I'll give it to you before I leave."

She stared at him for a while and he looked back in a battle of wills and she was the one who looked away first as a tiny blush crept up her cheeks at his gaze.

"Can I ask you something?" she asked finally.

"Go ahead."

"Why did you take this assignment? You definitely hate me and I'm sure you are not enjoying it. Then, _why_?" she asked meeting his gaze again.

"Of course I'm not enjoying it, Granger. Who likes a memento of how he was fooled and played with? Your presence is a constant reminder of how you mislead me and how big a dick I was to fall for the deception. But this is war and once we are in it, we have our jobs assigned."

"May I ask you something?" he asked after a while because she had gone quiet.

She looked up to meet his eyes. "Yes, I guess you may."

"Was the reason that you gave me the only reason or was there something else?" he asked and she could see the hint of loathing returning back in his eyes. She didn't want to reply as she feared he would get up and leave. It felt good to have a real conversation even if the topics chartered uncomfortable territories.

"I- . No, that was just it," she replied uncomfortably. She wasn't exactly ashamed. She had always justified her actions to herself stating that after all, it was a revenge. And Hermione truly believed that it wasn't the fault of the person who fooled you, it was your fault for being naïve and vulnerable enough to get fooled. But for some reason, looking at the tall boy sitting in front of her she felt a tiny hint of unease at what she had done.

He looked away and laughed mirthlessly as he shook his head. She noticed how his fringe fell over his eyes before he ran his long fingers through that gorgeous mane and pushed them back.

"With the world going topsy-turvy, you took revenge for not winning the school house cup, _that too during our first year_?! You sure have strange priorities, Granger. But then, you are on the different side of the wall altogether, aren't you? This war, innocent people losing lives; it doesn't affect you at all, does it? Or maybe it does now that your own house has become the target?" he inquired and she saw a mix of curiosity and pity in his features.

"You tell me, why are _you_ fighting? You belong to a pure blood line and you are a wizard by birth! Why are you defying this new order that just aims to give the true wizards their rightful place in the society?" she asked defensively. As much as she was grateful to the Order, it was difficult to change the outlook and believes that had been drilled into her since birth. She was a pureblood, wealthy witch, that itself put her on top with the crème of the wizarding masses, way ahead of the teeming million half-bloods, muggle-borns and even the penniless purebloods. The muggles, her Father said, were not even worth considering.

" _True wizards?_ What defines a true wizard, Miss Granger? Is it the ability to kill and maim the helpless, to misuse the power that nature has bestowed upon us? Who gave them that right?" he asked and she drew herself out of her thoughts.

"It's the law of nature. We are genetically more advanced than the muggles and yet, we are the ones in hiding, why?"

"How many muggles have you seen in your lifetime Granger?"

"What?!"

"I asked, how many muggles have you seen till date?"

She looked scandalised. "Why would I see muggles? Our mansion and lands are guarded against them."

"Are you scared of these 'lesser' people then?" he mocked.

"How many have you seen?" she asked defensively.

"Quite a few," he replied noticing her eyes widen in shock. "My brothers and I used to sneak down the village and play with the local boys. They are very much the same Granger, just like us. Although I know a few that are nasty," he said remembering the Dursleys, "but we too have some of those kinds amongst us."

"Don't they have these horrible diseases?" she asked in a whisper.

"You read so much! How can you still hold on to these stupid notions?" he asked incredulously.

"Of course I don't read about muggles! What is the need, honestly?" she sneered and looked at the table as memories of her childhood came crashing in. "Mother always said that they are filthy and they have these crazy diseases that cause blisters on their skin and…"

"Of course your Mother said and so it must be true! The same happens for people who are poor, right Granger?" he asked coldly and she looked up to find that loathing filled face again.

"I- I no… I mean…" she stuttered.

"Come on, don't deny! That's what you truly believe!"

She gulped down her discomfort and averted his gaze but looked up again as shuffling of feet indicated that he had stood up.

"Wait… You are leaving?" she asked, getting up too.

He did not bother answering but made his way towards the table next to the Pensive and picking up the vial, touched his wand at his temple. Dropping the long strand of wispy thread into the empty container, he corked it and turned around to meet her eyes.

"You are no longer the protected princess, Granger. I don't know if you realise how much bang in the middle of the war zone you stand now. But these few months and everything that has happened should give you a rough idea that the world and the people in it are not how you imagined them to be. Use that brilliant brain inside that pretty head of yours and for once, I suggest, decide the truth for yourself."

She looked on as he took a few long strides and left the room.

...

She turned and fidgeted around in the bed. Even after hours, his words were haunting her. She struggled to decide what to believe, the words that she had always assumed to be the ultimate truth now lay in shambles hit by the force of reality. Neither all the wealth in their vaults nor their blood status had saved her parents from the hands of Father's own power hungry master. And now she was at the mercy of the very people who she had deemed to be crazy and foolish. Looking up at the overhead curtains of her four-poster bed she let out a sigh. Ever since her rescue, she had often wondered how it would have been if she had been captured by her own side. She shuddered to even imagine the treatment she would have received. People who were capable of burning down their own allies could do anything, stoop to any level. And yet she wanted to see it for herself. What if it was a trick planted by the Order? She bolted up straight at that single line of thought. All these days she was so immersed in her own grief that she had overlooked this possibility. _Why it was very much possible that her parents were not actually dead and she was being fooled! Maybe this was just a kidnapping as her father had feared! And they were still looking for her out there while she was kept hidden within the school walls_. The more she thought about it the more sense it made. _Of course, it would be so easy to lure her into a false sense of security by telling her that it was all done for her safety, although in reality she was hidden away from her parents_.She had to get out of here. She had to get in touch with someone from her side, _but who? Daphne... Or perhaps even Draco... But how?_ She got down from the bed and paced around the room. There had to be a way...

It was almost light outside when she climbed back into the bed feeling ecstatic. She had finally found a way and a pawn to help her out...her so-called guard, Ronald Weasley.

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 _ **A/n: Thanks for reading! I am waiting eagerly for that review :)**_


	12. The Predator and the Prey

**A/N: This undoubtedly is my favourite chapter so far. I won't say anything else and leave you all to read and rush, I've got my baby's b'day to plan today.**

 **Will revert back to your message at the end of the day.**

 **Happy reading! Don't forget that review please!**

* * *

 **All Character rights belong to JKR.**

 **Chapter 12: The Predator and the Prey**

Harry sat in the empty common room all by himself. For anyone who dropped in unannounced, it would seem as if he was working on his DADA assignment but over the foot long scroll that barely had a few lines scribbled on it, lay an old parchment which was at present his sole focus point.

The various corridors and passages across the castle were mainly empty except for two pairs of prefects, Slytherin and Ravenclaw who patrolled them. _And_ there were a couple of Aurors and two teachers. But Harry's concern was elsewhere. He noticed two footprints walking slowly across the fourth floor corridor. A pair of prefects would be intersecting them after three tapestries if they did not walk fast... He watched with baited breath as the footprints of the Ravenclaw prefects came closer still and then casually crossed the ones he was watching and leave. He released a long held breath as the two began their walk again.

He had done quite a few crazy things along with Ron in their school life and many a times risked their lives too. But _this_ he really believed was as barmy as it could get. It could not jut risk Ron's expulsion from the school but have serious repercussions on the Order's plans if it failed. But Ron had been adamant to the point of being illogical, so he had been forced to agree. Glancing at the still moving figures, he looked back on the day a week ago when Ron had disclosed his intentions to him.

* * *

"Harry I've got something really important to tell you." Harry looked up from the Prince's Potion book to look at his best friend. They were enjoying the last of the year's sunshine by the lake before the wintery October approached with all its chilled fury.

He had noticed Ron looking particularly disturbed for the past few days. Even now he was chewing on his lower lip and concentrating hard on the ripples created in the water by the Giant Squid.

"Yeah Ron?" he asked, sitting up straight. The sun and the book had made him pleasantly drowsy.

"I- What happens if I take her out of her room and let her out for a while?" All traces of sleep vanished at that single statement.

"W-WHAT?! ARE YOU BARMY?!"

Ron continued to look at the lake as he replied. "Barmy... yes that's barmy an idea, isn't it?"

"Look Ron, I have no clue why you would think about it. All this protection and all these measures, you know the reasons mate. Why would you think of getting her out?"

"I'm just curious, it can't really be pleasant stuck inside for so many months now." he replied softly.

"What has she been telling you Ron?" Harry asked with his brows furrowed. _Was this a trick? Was she manipulating Ron to escape? But that would be insane. Even if she didn't care about Ron's expulsion by violating Dumbledore's orders at least she would be concerned about her own safety, wouldn't she?_

"Nothing specific... It's just that she spends a lot of time in that Pensive living in her own memories. I don't suppose that's good. She looks sick, like the confinement is draining her life out of her. Talks a lot about her past, asks how it feels to walk around the school, feel the grass under your feet, see other people, _be free_..." he murmured as if immersed in thoughts.

"Okay I get it but Ron she is not supposed to be seen."

"She won't. We'll use the cloak and go in the middle of the night."

"Mate looks like you've given it a thought already. What if she tries to escape?"

"She won't, where will she go? And ...I have a plan for that too."

"I still think this is crazy."

"I know."

"It can get us expelled Ron and what is the guarantee she won't try to harm you once you take her out."

"Get _me_ expelled if it comes to that, not you. You won't be coming. And she won't." He replied with a strange conviction, still looking away.

"What? What do you expect me to do? Sit back and watch?"

"Exactly. Keep a watch in the map and come down only if needed. It won't come to that though. I'll get her back within an hour or two. You'll have to be in inside the Gryffindor tower to help me get her back in, just in case someone is awake."

Harry looked at Ron, scrutinising the redhead. "It might endanger the Order's plans."

"It won't come to that. I give you my word."

"You have really made up your mind haven't you Ron?"

"Yes Harry I have, I will take her out... It's really important and necessary."

The discussion had come to an abrupt halt as Neville had appeared with Dean and Seamus at that instant and it was only a couple of days later that Ron brought up the topic again. Harry who had been secretly hoping that Ron would have dropped the plan groaned internally. The security inside the castle was tight with the recent events and he had no clue where his best mate intended to take her anyway.

They were sitting near the fire in the common room having finished their Transfiguration essay. The room was particularly noisy when Ron cast the Muffliato charm the boys had discovered in the Prince's potion book.

"I'm going to do it this Saturday." He said.

Harry sighed. "Where are you planning to take her?" he asked.

"Maybe just a walk around the castle and in case she expresses her desire to visit somewhere specific like the Library or her old dorm, then the Room of Requirements."

"What about the patrols?"

"Ravenclaws and Slytherins. Just have to be careful to avoid the former, Malfoy hardly pays attention to patrols and Parkinson is too busy drooling over him to notice anything."

"And the others? Aurors and teachers?"

"The routes are usually fixed. I'll keep to the areas that are patrolled by the prefects only."

"Ron, are you sure about it? I mean, I do understand that she might be feeling down but is it worth the risk? Honestly mate, I can't understand your concern, I thought you said you didn't particularly like her? And she is not even on our side. We don't even know her that well. Don't know what she is capable of."

"I do Harry, know her I mean." said the tall boy softly without looking at him, his blue eyes fixed on the fire crackling in the fireplace.

"A few months Ron." Replied Harry egging his mate on, a feeling in his gut telling him he was about to know the secret Ron had withheld for such a long time.

"Longer than that..." Ron's momentary silence was unbearable but he didn't interrupt. Whatever it was, Harry knew it would have been bad enough for Ron to have maintained his silence for so long, not to forget change him so much as well.

"I-I fancied her Harry."

He wasn't surprised at the revelation, but more so about Ron's final acceptance of it. It was difficult to fathom what was going on inside that head not just because Ron continued to look away but also because his face was so devoid of any emotion, that was strange coming from Ron.

"Last year during out patrols together... I don't really know what happened or how for that matter and I know it was absurd, but I did fall for her... _bad_."

"Did she know?" Harry asked softly.

"I didn't have the guts to tell her, heck I couldn't even talk but then after Dad's accident before Christmas, once we got back, she started talking, asking me why I had left earlier. Said she missed me during our patrols and I-I ... I didn't really tell her, but she knew how I felt." he struggled at the end of the sentence and stopped. He continued after a deep sigh, his voice now a monotone like describing something he alone could watch in the dying embers.

" Anyways... nothing much happened. She was all shy and delicate, you know? So different from how she was in the classes...I really thought she liked me too, she sure acted like it... I don't know why I didn't, but I should have seen it coming... Before our exams I overheard her talking to her friend. Seems she was fooling around all along." He laughed softly although there was no mirth in it, quite the opposite in fact. "It was Malfoy's idea to get her close to me to find out what we were, what _you_ were up to. Such a dimwit I was to fall straight for it."

"Does she know... _you know_?"

"Yes."

"And she feels nothing about it?"

"No."

The boys remained silent. Harry absorbing the story of how his best mate was betrayed by the same girl he was supposed to be protecting now and Ron perhaps in the aftermath of finally disclosing his deepest secret to someone.

"Why are you doing it Ron?" asked Harry finally. If it made little sense earlier, now after knowing it all, he could not figure out Ron's intentions at all.

"I told you."

"Mate, you're sure she is not playing games again?"

"Not this time Harry."

He did not intent to stop Ron again. For reasons he could not really understand, it seemed crucial for Ron to do what he had planned. Maybe he wanted a closure, maybe he hoped for a second chance, Harry couldn't tell at that point. But what was important was that Ron needed it. That reason was enough for him.

"So how?" he asked once they were at the dormitory and the rest of the boys had slept.

"I expect I will be able to take her out of the secret chamber."

"Her wand?"

"She'll have to leave it behind."

"And what if she tries to run away or nick your wand? She has tried that before."

"She won't be able to nick my wand, I'll be extra careful and she won't be able to run away either."

"But how?"

"Like this." Replied the redhead and pulled out something from under his pillows. A sleek and almost translucent object fell into Harry's hands and he remembered the night during their summer holidays when Fred and George had come down to visit them.

All had seemed fairly normal as they chatted and had butterbeer together till Harry had tried leaving the kitchen to go to the loo and had crashed back into Ron the moment he had tried stepping out of the door. It had been pretty confusing as the boys had found themselves unable to move apart beyond a certain distance before being pulled in together. Only when they had noticed the twins snickering and then manage an explanation after a round of laughter did it make any sense. It was a new product. Undetectable Love Connectors they called it and laughed at the faces the younger boys had made at the cheesy name. Once placed around the wrists of two people, which could be achieved simply by holding the intended partner's wrist , the thin piece of rope like object would coil around and be completely invisible to everyone. Even the wearers couldn't feel its presence, but it successfully avoided you and your partner from getting separated. An ingenious invention the boys had agreed and the twins had given each a free sample. The only thing that could open them was a personalized key that came with each.

"She won't know and I'll leave the key here."

"When?" asked Harry finally, handing back the object to Ron.

" Saturday, at 1 at night. We'll be back in a couple of hours."

Harry looked at the map and then his watch. It was twenty minutes past one and Ron and Hermione were still walking.

* * *

Hermione couldn't believe she was finally out, or how easy it had been to fool him with her act of loneliness. He sure was dumb enough to fall for it again. All she had to do was to ensure she looked extremely forlorn and grief stricken. A simple spell on her face to pale her complexion to look sickly had worked like a charm and so had her talks about her 'lost' family and lost freedom. It was only a matter of days when she asked him if he ever saw a time when she would get out of the chambers and be allowed to walk around the beloved school just once, just to feel alive. And he had come up with the idea only days later. Sure pretended to look all rough but he really was a softy _and a fool_. And now here she was, under this invisibility cloak walking in the corridors. Sure she had to leave her wand behind but she wasn't planning an escape anyway, _not tonight_. Not till she had done this a few more times, earned his trust, not till she was a little more prepared. Then she could choose a time and place. And if she could nick this fantastic cloak, it would be such a bonus.

A part of her did seem to nag at her actions. After all she hadn't really expected those gifts he got her for her birthday, _delivered not got,_ she corrected herself. They were from the Order members, books and chocolates and a homemade cake from his mother. Hermione couldn't help feel a little guilty before she had convinced herself that it was all an act too. Just a way to fool her into believing their lies. He hadn't really got her anything, not that she had hoped he would.

But nothing seemed to abate the physical pull she felt for him.

His close presence and that intoxicating smell that was distinctly him was burning her senses as was the heat of being so close. Her back was literally touching his front, sending shivers to the soft core between her legs and it was only her determination of finding her parents eventually that was keeping her sane. They had almost collided with the Ravenclaws before he had pressed them together at the wall, clasping his hand over her mouth as he faced away, watching the prefects walk by. She couldn't take her eyes off his face or stop her heart hammering inside her chest for that matter. But he left her as soon as the other couple was out of sight. _So he didn't trust her completely, but that was okay,_ this was just the beginning anyway. She didn't know where they were going although she had expressed the desire to visit the library if possible. But this wasn't the way. Still she could wait and watch him guide them around the castle and make notes for later. She concentrated on the bleakly lit pathways, a smile creeping up her lips in anticipation for a time she knew was coming, her moment of freedom.

* * *

Harry looked at the map again. They were in the sixth floor now. No patrollers were in their immediate vicinity. Looking at the feebly burning fire at the grate his mind wandered out to the conversation he had had with his best mate only hours ago. Did he even know Ron?

"You're ready?" he had asked sitting together at their favourite place in the common room, the Muffliato cast again.

"I've been for days Harry."

"I hope you get whatever you hope to achieve from this mate."

"I hope so too." replied the redhead. "For myself, for us."

"I don't think I'm following."

"Do you know why you always lose at chess Harry?" he asked suddenly meeting those spectacled green eyes with his own blue ones.

"Because you are a better player?" replied Harry, not quite sure how it had any connection with what they were talking about.

"No. Because you concentrate on your moves not mine. You watch mine and defend."

"So?"

"So the crucial aspect of chess is not just to predict your opponent's moves but to plan them altogether. Many times you don't even realize that you move your pieces just like I want you to. Many times you think you are fooling me but you don't know that I always know what I am doing or what you are doing for that matter."

"Wow, no wonder I lose but what is the link?"

"The link is she is doing the same mistake. She thinks she is duping me again with the act she is putting up. But I know how fabulous an actress she is." He said bitterly. "I need to know why though. What she wants, why she wants to get out. Pass on a message to someone perhaps? And also how she intends to do it."

Harry looked at that familiar face not recognizing the person behind it at all. Where was the goofy Ron he knew? But this was Ron, the master strategist, one who had defeated McGonagall's chess pieces when he was just eleven. It was just strange and a little unnerving to see him applying it in real life.

"So you know and you have been playing along."

"Yes."

"And she won't try escaping?"

"No. Not this time. She is not prepared enough. She'll wait for a better chance."

"She thinks you trust her."

"She thinks I'll fall for her charms again. I don't know how Dumbledore plans to test her change of alliance if it ever happens but I won't trust her again, ever."

Suddenly he was glad Dumbledore had chosen Ron and not him. He sure wouldn't have guessed her so well. It was obvious that the headmaster hoped and expected her to change alliances but her upbringing had been dark and that sure had left enough marks on her. For some reason he had always found it easier to see people as either black or white. It was the grey shades that he found difficult to accept or understand. Ron seemed to understand it perfectly. It was a game of manipulations where the prey had suddenly become the predator and a deadly one at that. Hermione Granger had no clue what she had just got herself into. It was all mind games; a game of chess played with humans as pawns. Thank Merlin, it was Ron who was playing from their side.

Harry saw the map where the two footprints paced up and down in a corridor on the seventh floor and suddenly they stopped and disappeared.

* * *

 _ **A/N: Thanks to all my reviewers and all my readers :)**_

 _ **Don't forget that review!**_


	13. The First of Many

**A/N: Thank you all for those fab reviews. Told you it was a favourite chapter, this one is too, although this one is a smaller one.**

 **Have been a little tied up so could not reply, hopefully will do that today.**

 **Happy Reading.**

 **Please don't forget that review. They really urge me to post sooner.**

* * *

 **All characters, places, props mentioned here belong to JKR.**

 **Chapter 13: The First of Many**

The seventh floor corridor was dark and eerily silent with even the occupants of the portraits fast asleep. Still huddled together under the invisibility cloak, it wasn't difficult for her to notice that they hadn't just appeared here in this empty passage by fluke, there was a particular determination in his step as he guided her to a predetermined location. Hermione felt slightly nervous as she walked with him. For reasons unknown, suddenly his presence began to scare her. She longed for the comfort and the security that her chambers provided. _What if he did something to hurt her here? What if..._ She shrugged those thoughts aside by force. Even for his standards that would be a stupid thing to do. Everyone would know it was him and most importantly he was risking much more by bringing her out by flaunting the Headmaster's orders anyway. He would have to take her back to the room in one piece and then, if necessary she always had the parchment McGonagall had given her. She took a deep breath urging herself not to lose her head now as she concentrated back on their present location.

He stopped in front of a tapestry, it was way too dark to see anything much but he seemed to know what he was doing as began to walk to and fro in front of a blank wall.

"Wha-" she began and then halted as a door appeared in their third pass. He unlocked it with a gentle push and walked in pulling her along.

The sudden brightness of room blinded her for a second after the dark corridor outside and she closed her eyes momentarily during which a soft click in the background indicated that the door had been shut. She opened her eyes quickly and got the shock of her life.

Ron watched as she lifted the cloak and moved away slightly before turning back, fear flashing in her eyes for a moment in her bright eyes and he realised he was still invisible. He removed the cloak from himself and she appeared to relax.

" _The Hogwart's Library?_ _But here?_ How?" she asked in a whisper as if she feared someone would hear her. "Where are we?" she asked.

"The Room of Requirements." He answered softly and then at her still confused look he added further. "It changes into whatever it you ask it for." Her astonishment was clearly marked on her features but apparently the lure of the books was too much for her to bother about anything else at the moment so she turned around and a genuine smile broke out on her face as she walked ahead in the exact replica of the place she perhaps loved the most.

Ron followed quietly in her wake, keeping safe distance but not so much as to force the connectors to pull them back together while she strolled as if in a daze, her hand reaching out to touch the spines of the volumes as she soaked it all in. He could see her right profile. A smile was playing softly on her lips, her face was lit up with what he thought was genuine happiness although she was much too good at faking everything from joy to sorrow to love so it might still be an act, he thought bitterly.

He looked at his watch as he stuffed the bundled up cloak inside his jacket. It was forty minutes past one, so they still had some time. The walk from the Gryffindor Tower had taken excruciatingly long and being at such proximity with her was a painful reminder of the times he craved to forget. She still smelled the same intoxicating way that used to drive him crazy... was at the moment smiling just the way he yearned to see her back in those days, cheeks flushing with colour, joy dancing in those big brown pools, gently biting her lower lip to hold the smile from breaking out. But unlike before, each gesture was an agonising reminder of her deceit and seemed to wrench his heart. As she stopped to pull out a volume before she settled down, he got a little closer to see the title. He had to know what she intended to read, had to keep watch on her every move to decipher what she wanted, the true intention behind all this facade of grief.

It was a simple book, a reference read for their Transfiguration class, he noted and as she sat down on the same table where she used to in the actual library, he took to standing near the window, leaning on the wall behind watching her carefully. Within a minute she was deeply engrossed in the pages, completely oblivious to the surrounding but unfortunately for Ron, he wasn't. The Room had done it again, morphed into an exact replica of the place he hated, complete with the exact location between the rows of books and the girl who had hurt him more than she knew. _She had got her dumb revenge right._ Keeping an eye on her to watch her every move, he noticed how those curly locks fell on her face and how she tucked them behind her ears in that same familiar gesture. He was unwillingly reminded of every moment he had spend gazing at her last year, craving for her, wondering why he was attracted to her like a moth to a flame and true to his thoughts, Hermione had burnt him alright. He watched with his jaws clenched as the pain intensified inside. She would never know how madly he was in love with her... yes _he was in love_ , it wasn't a simple case of teenage crush and that made it all the more worse. He should have kept away from the beginning, never given into the temptation in the first place but the pull he felt for her was something else, something he could never acknowledge as the thought itself, he felt was barmy for his age. At least there was some lesson learnt here. He knew never to fall in this trap or any other of the same nature ever again. The pain was not worth it. He took in a deep sigh. _How long would it be before he was released from this duty of guarding Hermione?_ _How long till he could just let go of the past without being reminded of it by having to see her every single day? How long before this intense love- hate he felt for her ceased to exist?_ It would leave him void of a crucial part in his chest region perhaps but at least he would be sane...

Hermione closed the book in her hands making a mental note to get it issued from the actual library somehow. There was another Rune's book she needed to cross check. Getting up she placed the book back in its place and turned around and stepped away to go towards the Rune's section further ahead when suddenly there was a maddening pull that hurled her back. Trying desperately to catch her footing, she crashed hard into the chest of the guy who was standing far away from her, just a few paces ahead of the wall. She felt one strong arm go around her waist holding her to him while the other went behind to grab the wall to arrest their fall as he stumbled to catch his own footing, unbalanced by her weight.

There was a minute or two perhaps when pressed flushed onto him, her palms resting on his hard chest, his arm still encasing her with his large palms touching the small of her back that she noticed the bare skin revealed by the v-neck of his tee-shirt under the jacket. Blood crept upwards making her slightly dizzy as she lifted her chin slightly to watch that handsome freckled face. She noticed how a faint copper shade graced the fair skin of his cheeks and ran down to a little below his pronounced jaw line. She noticed that long nose that was peppered with freckles and those lips that she knew could be both ruthless and gentle with equal ease, she noticed those mesmerizing blue eyes and the pale coloured lashes as blood flooded her cheeks causing her to lower her eyes again as the heat from his body threatened to burn her down. But then all of a sudden, she was pushed away by strong hands that grasped her upper arms.

" _What are you doing?_ " he asked in a gruff, anger and hatred in equal measure laced into the words.

She took a moment to catch herself, mortified by her bland display of the attraction she felt for him and the ease with which he shunned her away as if he was disgusted with it.

"I-I am not sure what happened... I felt like I was pulled back-" she managed weakly, turning away to hide the tears that sprang up in her eyes.

There was a momentary silence from his end and without looking at his face she could not say for sure if he believed her.

"Hurry up and see what you want you want to. You've got ten more minutes." He said in that same rude way and Hermione realised she didn't want to check any more books; she just wanted to get back and curl up on her bed. For some strange reason his actions, the way he pushed her away, hurt and it made no sense.

"Let's go back. I'm done." She said in a quiet voice, still looking away and he didn't bother to ask her for any reason. He pulled out the cloak from his pocket and coming closer dropped it over the two of them.

Hermione was lost in her own thoughts, not paying much attention to their walk as he guided her back. She was still fighting tears and worst was perhaps the urge to turn back and curl into his chest and let the tears fall. It would be an insane a thing to do on so many counts, to look for comfort from the very person who was the cause of the pain. She constantly reminded herself that he was just a pawn in her plan to escape, he was Ron Weasley , for crying out loud! The guy she had fooled with false pretences of romance and what the hell was she doing now? Craving for his closeness, for his touch, for a few words that were not spoken as if he hated the very existence of her? Where was the guy who used to spend hours at the library for her? The one whose eyes traced her out in a crowd? The one with softness marked in those blue irises? Since when did they turn so cold and most importantly why did it matter so much to her? What or who pulled her back to him and why?

She came to her senses when she heard a soft but not kind voice in her ears.

"Sit, put your legs up and shift in."

They had reached not just the Gryffindor tower but his dorm, more precisely his bed... She did as he asked, faintly noticing the presence of another person behind his taller frame. He got on the bed too, pulled the curtain shut and then removed the cloak. The bed was too small for two people and she pushed herself back with her knees pulled closer to her body as he leaned in and closed her eyes with his palm, the touch burning and hurting her somewhere deep in her chest region. There was no sound but then his hand moved away and she found the archway to her quarters. She scrambled down and rushed in. On a second thought she turned around to thank him but the door was already shut, he had not bothered to accompany her. As tears welled up in her eyes, she ran to her bed room and crashed on her bed, face pressed on her pillow, the long held tears finding release finally.

* * *

 _ **A/N: As always thanks for reading :) A review will be highly appreciated.**_


	14. Making and Breaking

**A/N: Another chapter up.**

 **I have managed to reply to few of you and hopefully will be able to reply to the rest today.**

 **Thank you all so much for appreciating this story :)**

 **Keep those reviews coming please!**

* * *

 **All characters, places and props mentioned here belong to JKR.**

 **Chapter 14: Making and Breaking**

Harry looked away guiltily from Ginny whom he was watching inconspicuously as her youngest brother arrived and huffed as he sat down beside him at the breakfast table next morning. He appeared to be in a particularly foul mood, so common on his features in this term, that it made Harry often wonder how nobody noticed the recent changes in him.

"When is our next practice session?" asked the redhead as he filled his plate with toasts and bacons.

"Today evening." He replied. There were so many questions bubbling inside him but this wasn't a place safe enough to ask.

"Good." Ron said and began attacking his food as if it had done him personal harm. Harry had been unable to get any information out of him the previous night as they had hit the bed as soon as Granger had got inside her chamber. To be precise, Ron had closed the bed curtains shut. Harry for his part had been much too awake to doze off immediately. He had stayed up contemplating what Dumbledore wished to achieve by dumping Granger with them and wondered if the old man even know how her closeness was impacting Ron? He could barely imagine what the redhead would be going through having been given the responsibility of the very same girl who dumped him so badly and not very long ago either. All of Ron's actions over the summer seemed to make sense now. Instinct told him that something had happened between the two tonight again which had made Ron look so livid. Sensing that his best mate would only divulge the happenings when he wanted to, he had been forced to keep shut.

Later, sitting outside near the lake all by themselves he finally confronted the still grim looking guy.

"So, how did it go last night?"

"Okay of sorts. Took her to the Room of Requirements as the library... I am assuming she either needs a specific book that she can't actually get issued through me or this was just a casual place she wanted to visit. But it's all still a part of her game, to keep me from suspecting by choosing various innocent locations before that one place she actually wants to visit or see."

"So you plan to take her out again."

"Yes, but not immediately."

"What now?" asked Harry. He was amazed at how Ron was reading her moves and desperately hoped that the boy was either completely accurate in identifying her intentions or completely wrong in his suspicion and Granger was actually innocent.

"I am hoping you'll schedule more practice sessions mate. I need to get out, get involved in something else..." Ron replied breathing deeply. He hadn't slept all night. The image of Hermione's petite form close in his arms had been haunting him on so many levels. Even now he could distinctly remember her dilated pupils as they moved over his face, those heavily lidded eyes that showed pure longing, the way he could feel her heavy breathing with her soft body pressed flushed against his. He could not imagine how fabulous an actress she was to fake something so raw, so flawlessly. But he knew she was faking it for sure. Hadn't she herself declared that she loathed his touch? And now she was pretending to do exactly the opposite only to lower his defences, only to entice him yet again. He just could not hate her enough for stooping so low to get her motive. And he could not forgive himself either for hoping for the tiniest second that she wasn't pretending, _not this time_. _No_ he reminded himself sternly. If he fell for it, it would be the dumbest thing he ever did. If he allowed her to break the wall he had constructed around his heart this time again, he would be as big a fool as she thought he was. He needed an engagement, something to get his mind off her, _anything_.

"Ron? _Ron?_ "

He turned around. "Oh! Sorry mate ...I just..."

"Phased out, yes I can see that." replied Harry. "Come on lets finish the DADA assignment for tomorrow." Ron groaned at the suggestion while Harry stood up and pulled him off the ground too. "Come on Ron, we won't have the energy to do it after practice and I bet Snape is just itching to hand me that detention. You just said you need to get involved in something." He forced as they slugged towards the castle.

"I meant in something good." grumbled the taller boy as they climbed up the stairs.

...

"Harry?" called Ron from the shower as warm water dribbled down his naked torso.

"Yes Ron?" came the other boy's muffled voice from the next cubicle of their Quidditch changing room tent. The silence in the tent assured him that the rest of the team had left.

"Just throw me out of the team mate. I'm rotten." He sighed.

There was a pause and Ron wondered if Harry was actually contemplating on the suggestion. He was sure the rest of the team would agree. He had been particularly lousy during the practice, dropping catches and once hitting the Quaffle so hard that it hit Katie on her face. His mind constantly wandered off to the invisible chambers that he knew, would be jutting out of the Gryffindor Tower. He could easily picture a curly haired Slytherin witch watching him from her living room window. He hadn't seen her since the time he had brought her back in and no matter how much he wished to keep away, he would have to fetch her assignments to be submitted the next day. What would she do when he went back to her chamber? Snicker at him perhaps or keep up that act of being attracted to him. He personally preferred the first, he could not take another minute of her looking him like she actually wanted him and yet know that she was just trying to use him again, attack his soft spot.

"You need to get your head in the game Ron, you are just distracted." Said Harrry, the sound of the running water muffling his voice slightly and breaking Ron's internal musings.

"Harry-"

"No mate. It's just that. You are thinking way too much about her. Just get your attention back in the game. We'll be playing Slytherin first; don't give her that chance to aid her team like this, not at your expense."

There was a pause when he allowed both the water from the showerhead and his best friend's words to run over him and seep in. "You are right." He replied softly after a while.

"Good. Just remember it okay?"

"Yeah... Thanks mate." He replied, turning off the knob and running his fingers through the wet hair before he pulled the towel and tied it around his waist.

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She moved away from the window in her bedroom. It that had a much clear view of the Quidditch grounds than the one in the living area. Even in the crowd of seven players she could locate him easily and not just because he was in his goalkeeper uniform. Even without having spent the major part of the day in the pensive watching her old memories of him, she could identify his gestures easily nowadays. But after the time in the pensive, she could also tell clearly how the shy boy from her previous year was different from the constantly angry person he had become now.

 _It is a foolish thing to do!_ her brain had told her frantically. She needed to concentrate on her plan. The Room of Requirement had opened up so many great possibilities. And yet she done quite the opposite, listened to the faint murmur of her heart to see him again and she had given in to the temptation. Bringing out all the memories of the previous year, she had once again lived along with her older self as she walked in dark corridors patrolling with him. And how different those walks were from the one she had the previous night! She couldn't remember much of the days before their first patrol night after school reopened post their Christmas break- the day she had put her plan rolling. Unfortunately the memories of that one night were much too fresh .

She recalled how elated she had felt on seeing that stupid grin on his face or the way he had stuttered, unable to answer her. But she had seen so many things this time around, things she had never noticed, never understood earlier...

 _Early Morning hours of Sunday_

The sensation of falling into a memory was a familiar one by now but this time there was an anxiety she could not really explain. She fell in next to her memory self as the latter stood near the Great Hall. The memory Hermione glanced at her watch with an annoyed look on her face and she remembered how uncomfortable she had felt, cursing Draco under her breath for coming up with the idea. Her memory self adjusted herself and looked ahead, she followed her own alter version's glance just as he appeared around the corner. Her heart hitched at that familiar gait. He was a good few inches taller now and definitely broader. Concentrating totally on the boy, she noticed how he glanced up at her memory self once and looked away as his ears turned red. One of his hands was shoved deep inside his pocket while the other ruffled his hair making him look adorable. He came closer and muttered a soft 'hi' and the pair started walking. She followed and noticed how he glanced at her every few minutes from his height and how it brought a smile to his lips every single time. She could not remember one instance where he had smiled that way at her in the recent past, or looked at her with even a tiny part of that adoration in his eyes for that matter...

Much later, memory Hermione asked him about the reason for his early departure and then expressed fake concern over his family. She watched as he stopped walking and looked at her memory self in awe, muttering a stuttered reply. _How had she not noticed that tenderness in his eyes, the way those blue eyes took her all in as if she was the prettiest thing he had ever seen?_ And then her memory self threw in a line she remembered having laughed about with Daph later in their dorm.

" _I was missing you... I mean during the patrols."_

The fire that burned in his eyes at her statement was so very raw and full of love that she stood shocked. Her brain seemed to kick in trying to give a last fight to a dying chance, reminding her that it was a game, a game well played and she had to get out both from this memory and this confinement. She had to find a way to send a message to her parents, find Daph, _do anything._ But her heart had stopped at that one moment, freezing that face in her memory for ever, that look in his eyes that had been for her and her alone.

 _What had she done to him?_

" _Ron..._ she whispered softly to herself as the pair in her memory walked away and she was pulled out of the Pensive.

It was a downward spiral from there as she pulled out each memory she had of him, the patrols, the ones in the library and the ones during their combined classes. And each one was just the same. Each one had him glancing at her, his ears turning red when their gazes met and that adorable shy look that came over his features, those eyes sparkling with tenderness he couldn't hide, a conscious but genuine smile grazing his lips... It made her wonder if she would ever get to see those expressions on his face again. She saw him watching her at the library and realized that the passion those eyes held for her was so much deeper and so much better than his forced kiss during the summer. That had been a revenge she realized, a payback for what she had done to him, for breaking him, for turning him into what he was now.

She finally pulled out the final memory, the one from the library realizing with guilt that it was that point that had turned it all upside down.

Standing near a bookshelf she watched her older self spitting poison about him to Daphne and when he finally moved out from behind the shelf, she realized with a jolt how different he looked from just the previous memory. His eyes devoid of the love and the laughter they used to hold, filled instead with overwhelming pain. She watched their interaction cringing at her own words and the way he glanced at her with hopelessness and a heartbreakingly sad smile before he walked out.

...

There was a familiar sound of footsteps from the living area and she rushed out as if pulled towards him by some magic. His hair was still wet and the smell of a fresh shower hung around him.

"I need your assignments scrolls." He said without a preamble looking rather annoyed.

She pulled out the neatly rolled up scrolls and handed them over, glancing at his face before averting her eyes shyly. "What happened?" she asked softly, looking up to meet his gaze and despite her familiarity with his present version, was shocked at the anger that emanated from him.

"I- I am sure you'll do better in the next practice." She said softly and realized immediately that it was perhaps the worst possible thing she could have said. It told him she had seen him during the practice. She took a few steps back. He was looking at her so severely that she subconsciously grasped her wand in her pocket, a movement he did not miss.

"Don't. Play. Games. With. Me. Granger." He breathed slowly.

"Ron... I-" she began and stopped as he dropped the scrolls unceremoniously on the table and came forward. He stopped just short of grasping her upper arms as she backed into the wall while he stood dangerously close, his fragrance both arousing and terrifying her at the same time.

"I have told you NOT to call me that!" he hissed and after a look at her that was poles away from the way she remembered from the memories, he walked away pausing only to pick up the scrolls from where he had dropped them.

She hardly saw him for days post that; he came in only to perform the basic duties of dropping and picking up her assignments and giving her his memories. Sometimes the lectures would be buzzed and the scenes faded into a wispy nothingness which she assumed were times when he was lost in thoughts. However she knew not to point them out, the more frequenting training sessions on the pitch told her there was a game with the Slytherins coming up and his mood grew fouler each day.

She was almost relived the day of the match and although not very fond of the game, she watched it all from the vintage point of her bedroom. She saw him making fantastic saves one after the other and despite the loss of her own house, she had a smile on her lips. Maybe now that the game was both done and won, he would be in a better mood. She waited till late that night for him to turn up but he didn't. The next day he came down for a while again and left without a word as soon as he had collected her scrolls. He looked aloof, unconcerned and eager to leave her company. And though it bothered her and saddened her to an extent, she thought it was only his way of keeping away from her.

Monday evening was just the same. He came in purposefully, pulled out his memories and dropping them in the empty pensive, turned away. She watched him leave and with a sigh, pulled her notebook and a self inking quill and dived into the memory. He was much more focused in the classes than the previous week and she took copious notes, forgetting for a while all her worries and heartache for the boy whose memory self sat next to her. One class after the other they moved and it was only after the second period post lunch that something happened.

The memory selves of the two boys were walking down the corridor grumbling about the History of Magic class as Hermione walked next to the them when a blonde girl appeared, _Lavender Brown from Gryffindor._ Brown looked at the taller of the two boys, not bothering to conceal the seductive look that came over her eyes.

"Harry I am going to borrow your friend for a while, if he doesn't mind that is." She said slowly without taking her eyes off Ron even for a second.

Hermione's shocked self stared at the freckled face, desperately hoping for him to deny but the way he allowed his eyes to roam over that girl's face told her that he was going to follow her anyway. She did not hear what Potter said or if he even said anything but followed the couple as the girl held his hand and guided him purposely towards a room at the farthest corner of the corridor.

It was only after the two had entered what appeared to be an unused classroom and Brown had locked the door that Ron spoke.

"We have a class now Lavender." He said in a husky voice as she came closer.

"I know that, but you know Professor Binns never notices if students arrive a little late." The girl replied seductively, eliminating the distance between them in few quick strides. Taking his hand in her own, she placed it much too low on her back. Hermione watched in horror as Ron's large hand spread out and grasping the girl, pulled her closer while Brown giggled and placing her own on his neck, pulled his face to hers as their lips met.

 _"NO! NO! NO!"_ she screamed as tears built up in her eyes, but no sound came out to break the silence of the room as the two moved their bodies in tandem with the kiss. She hated the way the girl rubbed her body against his, the way both his hands were at her back and holding her curvy form to himself, sucking her lips while her fingers played in his gorgeous hair.

When Ron left those lips and bend down to press his face on the girl's nape and she let out a sigh, arching her body to give him better access, Hermione decided she had seen enough. The pain that was flowing in her veins was like poison, choking her from inside out. She pulled herself out from the memory, not bothering anymore about the lessons and crashed down on the floor in front of a pair of long jeans clad legs.

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 _ **A/N: Thanks for reading. I am early awaiting that review :)**_


	15. Fighting Back

**A/N: I haven't been able to post in the past few days as my city has been hit with massive floods; cell, internet, power lines were all hit. Immense grace of God, my family and friends are all safe but that can't be said for many lives that have been lost or thrown into complete disarray. Life is slowly trickling back to normalcy and writing is my refuge to hide away from my recent memories of the devastation. Request your prayers for all the troubled souls.**

 **Thanks to all of you for those lovely comments for the previous chapter. I understand the confusion over that memory that supposedly 'leaked' in (or maybe not) into the pensive. Well before we proceed, I have to remind you one thing that I mentioned in my notes right before the first chapter- the lead characters in this story are going to be darker and you will see that coming to the fore as we proceed.**

 **Even in cannon, the couple that was much in love (though reluctant to admit) was pretty hostile to each other in the sixth year. Here in this scenario, they are practically in the opposite camps. So be braced and let's proceed...**

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 **J.K. Rowling owns all character rights along with the places and the props mentioned here. I write for the sheer pleasure of it, no profit is being made.**

 **Chapter 15: Fighting Back**

She looked like a wild cat as she scrambled to get to her feet and then eyed him with undisguised pain and anger while he returned her gaze with nothing but mild curiosity.

"Why are you here Weasley?" she hissed but only after she had thrown her notebook and quill away on the couch and moved a substantial distance away from him.

"I am here to get back my memories Granger. I don't intent to let you have them, you see." He replied cool and composed while she turned around furiously.

"Take it. I don't want anything that belongs to you either." She screeched, fighting tears and the urge to stamp her feet and yell at him, all at the same time.

"That's nothing new." He replied with a shrug and taking out his wand, collect the thread of wispy memories and transferred them to his temple, all the while keeping his back to her so she could not see his expressions herself to decide if he had done it on purpose. Ron turned around to find her staring hard at him.

"What?" he asked casually while she glared.

"Why did you do it?" she asked and cringed immediately. Her brain was frantically shaking it is head; it was absolutely insane to give your opponent an upper hand by playing into his hands. If he had intentionally put in that memory there, he would be looking out for exactly this, a reaction from her.

"Why did I do what?" he asked perplexed and she watched him carefully.

"Nothing..." She replied sceptically.

"Come on Granger, you looked pissed enough to hex me. What happened? Did I not pay attention to the teacher?"

"Never mind. It's nothing..." she replied turning away waiting for him to walk away just like he had been doing for the past few days. It all made perfect sense now. His urgency to get out, to get into that bimbo's arms, into her knickers too perhaps, she though angrily and hated the tears of frustration that sprung up at the thought.

"Fine then." He said and she heard his footsteps moving away.

"Tell Dumbledore that you are not interested in this assignment anymore and ask him to appoint someone else." She spat when he was almost at the door making him turn around and glare at her.

"Just spit it out Granger." He growled menacingly. "What the hell is it?"

"Nothing. I am just saying because you're mind is hardly into the task. You are just skimming over your duties."

He let out a deep breath and walked towards her purposefully. Once they were face to face he looked into her brown pools with those icy blue eyes of his.

"Stop beating around the bush and get to the point."

"I am not beating around the bush. You are skimming over your duties and you know that!"

"Really? So what part of my duty have I missed? Singing lullabies to you or feeding you dinner perhaps? Oh! I forgot! I must have stood in attendance waiting for Her Highness's orders, right?"

"None of those but of course you could have spent a little time talking to me perhaps? Aah! How will you do that! You are too busy shoving your tongue down Miss Brown's throat after all!" she sneered and noticed his momentary surprise that was soon masked by a look of deep loathing.

"Granger stay in your limits. What I do in my personal life is none of your business anyway." He replied fiercely.

"It is every bit my concern! You are _my_ guard you are supposed to look over my safety and not get busy snogging some dumb chick." She cried exasperatedly.

This time he looked hard enough at her to unnerve her as she wrapped her arms around herself and bit her lips in an attempt to bite back the groan and looked away to hide the moisture in her eyes.

"I am your guard, _not_ your personal slave. It is none of your concern Granger if I date or snog or even shag Lavender or anyone else for that matter." He replied coldly as she met his eyes, shocked at his words. Her heart seemed to shatter into a million pieces. She wanted to hurt him and hurt him bad, just as much as he was hurting her, now when she had finally begun to understand her feelings for him, now that she had started to depend, he had gone ahead and ... _Was he really shagging her then?_

"How did you know about Lavender and me?" he asked as she walked away to stand near the large window looking over the Forbidden Forest.

"You showed me." She replied softly, swallowing the ache.

"I- Fuck! I guess I was a little distracted." He muttered.

"I understand." She answered in a monotone, still looking away. "May I ask you for something?" she inquired softly just when he was about to turn away.

"Yes." She heard him reply.

"Will you take me away from here, please? Just for an hour or two... I need to get away... Please Ro- I mean, Weasley?" she pleaded in a quiet, sad voice.

Ron watched her silhouette and let out a sigh. Her demure, the flaring up on seeing him, the unreasonable arguments which actually reflected her anger over his memory and finally this defeated stance, both angered and saddened him in equal measure. She was doing exactly what he had anticipated, pretending to be all heartbroken over his affair with Lavender. In fact the way she asked him to take her away was so flawlessly acted out, that it strengthened his belief that she was playing the grief card again. He almost had the urge to walk up to her and shaking her by the shoulder, ask her to drop the act.

 _But what if she wasn't acting?_ After all he had dropped in suddenly, just to catch her off guard and had indeed found her crumpled on the floor, heart- broken. _That could not have been an act, could it?_ -asked his foolish heart but he shoved that thought away. It was nothing, _just her dismay on seeing that her charms had failed to entice him this time round_ \- he convinced himself firmly.

Despite everything, he found himself wishing to be ignorant if only to see her pinning for him like this. He almost wished to willingly fall into this web she was spinning around him. He looked at her petite form. God he wanted her! And not just physically either... Lavender, he knew, was a means to release his sexual frustration and no matter how skilled she was with her mouth and hands, she was nowhere even close to eliciting that burning passion that Hermione generated in him, even when they were not touching. He looked at the girl standing inches away and realized that he had to come clean to Lavender before the girl got any more involved. It was already a mess of a situation. He could by no means tell her that he was in love with a Slytherin the world thought to be dead. He had to come up with a reason good enough and do it soon, before he screwed it up even more. There was no way he could commit himself to Lavender or anyone else for that matter.

"Where do you want to go?" he asked quietly.

"A place where there are no walls." She replied with a sigh. "Somewhere open. An open meadow or the ground near the lake or even the forest." She replied as if the answer was already pondered over and maybe it was. After all it was all premeditated anyway.

"They are all locations beyond the castle walls." He mused softly to himself.

"Does that make a difference?" she asked still looking away.

"I don't know. We have never tried, but no harm in giving it a go." He replied after a pause. "Saturday midnight?"

"I'll be waiting." She replied.

...

He arrived on the dot on Saturday night and after the same drill reached the seventh floor corridor. She watched him carefully.

"How do you do it? Make the door appear, I mean?" she asked as if in awe once they entered and the room that was now a perfect copy of the sunlit grounds and the lake.

"You just have to think what you want and repeating it walk to and fro thrice.

"Wow... I have almost forgotten how it feels to have the sun on my face." She whispered softly as she lay down on the grass. Despite everything she felt for him and the determination to find her parents, she had not forgotten that she wanted revenge. Ronald Weasley would pay for hurting her, _yes he would_. The plan was formulating steadily and it was only a matter of time now. She had to get out of this soon, she had to get out of this game of manipulation and go back home to her parents, away from this young man who had managed not only to find his way into her heart but also to break it. She had to do it quick and close this chapter once and for all.

One revenge plan had failed and miserably so, she reflected silently. It was lucky Ron had no clue. It was a disappointment really to have written so elaborately to McGonagall about a made up attempt of molestation against him. Hermione had really thought it would have been her words, the brightest witch of her age's against his. Who would believe him and how would he prove otherwise? But then the Headmistress had written back, Dumbledore had apparently charmed her quarters both at the school and the safe house so that no one would be able to sexually abuse her, touch her against her will, it said. And the headmistress was disappointed that such a student as herself had come up with false allegations. She had felt a tiny bit of guilt and a whole lot of disappointment on losing that piece of arsenal. At least Ron did not know about her deceit or the charm...

"How is Brown?" she asked casually, turning around to face him.

"Who?" he asked with brows furrowed.

"Brown... Lavender Brown. Your girlfriend."

"Oh...Yeah... She is... She is good." He replied eying her cautiously.

"I am sure she is." Hermione replied with a smile that looked strange on her pretty features.

"I wonder if we can try the forest next time. Do you suppose it will be exactly the same?" she asked innocently.

"Do you mean with the live creatures? I don't know." He answered and she nodded a little and went back to stretching herself on the grass. Ron was sitting with his back resting on the tree trunk, close enough to her and watched her soaking in the warmth. The brown curls glinted in the sunlight and she seemed to glow. He noticed she was wearing a particularly fitting dress inside the woollens which she had discarded once they got in the Room of Requirements. This deep navy dress had a wide neck and her satin bra straps peeked out. She was playing the charms card again and he realised with a grunt that it was working to a certain extent too. He wanted to pull down the dress from the shoulder and get those straps off as well. He wanted to place his mouth over those breasts that were straining the dress in her present position and suck till the buds hardened. He would love to...

"Bloody hell!" he muttered under his breath. It seemed as if all the snogging he got in with Lavender did nothing to help and he was still getting hard even at her sight despite knowing how close they were getting to the climax of this cat and mouse chase. That had been the whole point of carelessly dropping that memory for her to see, to push her into a rash reaction that would increase her chances of making a mistake and he was sure he had achieved it. _The forest_... Well he was positive she would ask for a chance to make the request to the room soon. 'Just to see how it worked', she would say and _that_ he knew would be it. Harry was sceptical when Ron had confided in him, but he wanted to see for himself. Find out the place she was desperate to visit. It was like a puzzle he needed to solve. He knew she would try to harm him too. If she had it in her to revenge a stupid award from first year, he had given her reasons plenty in these few months. He knew it was getting closer, he could see it in her smile, in her eyes, feel it in his very bones. And he couldn't wait to see what she was planning and to what lengths she would go to hurt him again. It was creepy the way he wanted to go through the pain himself, maybe then his stupid heart would stop caring, stop loving her once and for all.

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 _A/N: Thanks to all of you for reading. A review is highly anticipated and will be greatly appreciated._

 _Next Chapter : Hermione's Secret Location_


	16. Home Truths

**A/N:** **Thanks to each one of my readers for your continued support. The joy I get sharing my story with you guys is immense.**

 **This is that one chapter that was the root idea around which I developed this whole story. Have been waiting to put down all I had created in my mind in words and share it with you all. I seriously hope you like it.**

 **Although I'll refrain from replying to any of your reviews till the end of this chapter, I have to say two reviews came so very close to** **partly** **guessing** **it or asking for it** **. Will say no more.**

 **Enjoy and leave a review please.**

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 **All characters, props and places mentioned here belong to their fantastic creator JK Rowling.**

 **Chapter 16: Home Truths**

She stood watching the snowy white grounds from her hidden chamber in the Gryffindor tower. The sun disappeared behind the green forest cover and the darkness of the night claimed her view and yet she stood like she had for hours. The room was silent except for the tinkling of the two charmed bells that were placed on the Christmas tree in the living room. She felt like she had either forgotten how to breath or was holding it all in and would continue to do so till this night died. The hourglass chimed softly indicating the passing of another hour and she mechanically reached for it and turned it over, her eyes glancing briefly over the still wrapped boxes on the table. They had bothered to send her presents, all of them, even the headmaster but not _him_. How much they put in for a show amazed her but it would all end tonight. Tomorrow would be another day and hopefully it would bring with it a new hope and a new goal.

The wait had been long, weeks, no months really. She shuddered to think what lay ahead, the culmination of days of planning and manipulating, laying out her pieces so as not to raise his suspicion but ensure that the pointers were all in place. And finally she had got it all the way she wanted; cross checked everything she needed to. Luck was with her, for he himself had picked the hour, midnight at Christmas, when majority of the students would have left for home and the remaining few would be too hung over after the festivities and the feast. It suited her just fine, gave her much more time and greater cover. She rubbed her hands together to ward off the chill that seemed to be creeping in despite her mittens and the warming spells, her heart had speeded up and every nerve ending seemed to be on alert. This was the night that could make or break her life. Dinner time came and went, the magical plates and the food appeared and then disappeared untouched. And still, keenly she waited for the sound that meant hope, his footsteps.

...

He looked at the mostly empty table that accommodated all of the remaining few students. The fidgeting of the only other Gryffindor was much too obvious and he wished Harry would stop being so paranoid. At this rate he would attract the attention of the teachers. In fact Ron thought he had noticed a particular gleam in the eyes of the headmaster as if the old man knew what exactly was going on in the castle. And yet it couldn't be, no one but Harry was aware of the plan. He knew his best friend was worried and not without reason. Katie had been attacked not many days ago and Harry had finally deduced that Malfoy was up to something in the Room of Requirements too; just like Ron and Hermione, he too disappeared off the map at times. Ron was not surprised that his mate had been sneaking inside the cloak and spending many nights walking across the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy trying to find the room the blonde visited. So far he had been hopelessly unsuccessful but that hadn't deterred the raven haired boy's spirits in the least. In fact, now he was sure Draco was behind the attack on Katie. Ron didn't know what to think. Between all the information about Voldemort's past, the discovery of the theory of Horcruxes, classes and not to forget Lavender's over enthusiastic attempts at romance, he was much too tired to exercise his brains anymore. And then there was _Her_ \- Granger. He was so close. Days and days she had taken, requesting one location after the other, the Quidditch grounds, the Great Hall, Hogsmeade and the Forbidden Forest. It was like she was looking for something in each of these locations. Signs, marks, something...And though she had not mentioned it, he knew tonight was the night. She had requested to go out one final time when he had told her that these night time adventures had to stop; the security of the castle was getting more and more stringent as if there was some hidden storm that was fast approaching.

Was he ready? Harry would say no, Ron was sure he was. He glanced at his watch again, feeling the connectors tucked inside his jeans pocket next to his wand. Just a few more hours and he would find out...

...

She heard his footsteps before he called.

"Are you ready?" he asked softly. _Did that face look different somehow? Like he knew a secret she didn't?_ She set the thought aside.

"Can I carry my wand tonight?" she asked and then quickly lowered her eyes demurely; "Please?" she added watching him from behind her lowered lashes. _Did that jaw clench for a while? No, maybe it was_ _just_ _the light._

"Okay." he said after a thought and stretched his hands for her to hold. Sudden elation coursed through her veins but she held it from flashing across her face. Hermione took a deep breath that did not seem to fill her lungs at all before she placed her cold hands in his larger, warmer ones. The jolt of magic passed through her once more as she looked up at that impassive face. _Would she really have the heart to hurt him if it came to that? Maybe... maybe not._ She had still not forgotten the memory she had witnessed and each time she remembered it the pain seemed to intensify. He belonged to someone else, at least for now, but wasn't that how it would always be? Even if he left that bimbo, tomorrow it could be another girl that captured his fancy but would it ever be her again? There was very little hope. Their relationship had only deteriorated over these months and many a time due to her own folly, although Hermione would kill herself before she admitted it to him. But the thought of him belongings to someone else was, to put in simple words, agonizing. Only bit of consolation was that those eyes did not roam over Brown the way it did over her, she had her memories to justify her claim to her own self. Was it a consolation really? No, more of a hopeless reminder of his changed persona, of a chance lost, quite possibly forever. How long would it be before he found that special someone? And did she have the strength to bear the sight of losing even that bit of him that she secretly cherished as her own?

He left her hand for a minute to pull out his wand and then those long fingers clasped around her wrist jolting her back to reality, reminding her why she was taking this risk in the first place, to get away from him and the pain he was putting her through by being so very close and yet so far. She shook him off and held his hand properly. He always did this, try pulling her by her wrist and she hated it.

The door at the end of the archway to her room melted at his touch and they clambered in and immediately out of his bed, much more noisily this time than the times before, their subconscious realizing there was no one in the Gryffindor tower apart from their confidante to hear the ruckus anyway. Potter never spoke to her, she didn't know if it was on principle or if he was ordered not to. The single glance he gave at their direction showed that he did not support his best mate's idea of getting her out. Silently she thanked her luck that it was Ronald who had been assigned as her custodian. Potter would have been more difficult to manipulate perhaps. The tall Gryffindor broke her line of thought once more as he threw a long cloak over her pulling their bodies closer together causing, yet again, her nerves to go in an overdrive with the effect of his touch and fragrance. His broad self guided her out of the room and down the stairs purposefully and soon they were out in the corridor.

How long it took for them to reach the seventh floor she did not know, her randomly thudding heart pounding away in her chest. _What if it all went wrong? What if her worst fears came true and things messed up and he got suspicious of her intentions? What if the Order realised that she had identified their deception and decided they could finally treat her like the captive that she was?_ She gulped hard at the visual of a dark, cramped room and unknown, dirty men groping her with their filthy hands and stale breaths in the guise of guarding her. She fumbled and finding it clasped his warm calloused hand, holding it like it was her sole support against the world, just like the night he had guided her to the school blindfolded. If she was not that preoccupied, she would have noticed the hitching of his breath as his fingers closed around hers and she felt calm and focused back on the self assigned mission.

"Would you like a try this time?" He asked in a whisper, shocking her. Could this be really happening? She had thought long and hard before deciding on the way she would plead him to let her work it and here he was offering her that chance without even asking. Doubt crept in, _was he playing? Was this a trap?_ She shrugged that thought aside; he was Ron Weasley much too open a book to play mind games.

"May I?" she asked, tilting her head up to meet his eyes, her own displaying surprise and joy.

"This is the last time so you might." came his reply close to her ears as he exhaled softly and her whole body seemed to tense in anticipation the way that soft gush of air tickled the flesh below her ears.

"What do I do?" she asked controlling her breath although she knew the answer well. She had spend days making notes about this one room because even the book Hogwarts, a History had no information on it. She knew what she wanted, and she had already worked out the exact words long ago.

"Just think what you want clearly and walk thrice, here..." he replied.

Licking her dry lips, she curled her fingers around her wand drawing strength from the wood and closed her eyes as she chanted the sentence she had framed and began pacing.

...

The door that appeared looked just like the other times. As her hand went out of the cloak, a creepy image of a disembodied part as it floated in mid air and turned the knob, Ron had a strong urge to hold her hand and run backwards at the tower. He did not get premonitions but something deep in his gut told him one step into this room would change their lives forever, he couldn't decide whether it was a good thing or not.

She entered and he followed and furrowed his brows at the darkness inside. Before he had lit his wand, the door closed behind him. The sudden glow from her wand blinded him for a minute before he removed the cloak and stuffed it deep inside his jacket pocket and lit his own. Dense network of thick trunks and branches greeted his vision.

"Where are we?" he asked looking all around. They had been in the Forbidden Forest and he knew by experience that for some reason the Room did not, or perhaps could not, replicate the living creatures except the trees and the foliage. It had been the same when they had tried Hogsmeade, it had all the shops and its wares but no shopkeepers. They had also been unable to take anything outside the room, the quill he had noticed her pickup had simply disappeared the moment they stepped out. That was a good thing. However even without any of the moving creatures or creepy crawlies the place seemed to breathe as if every tree here was alive and watching over the uninvited guests as they whispered eerily amongst themselves. She turned around and even in the faint light of the two wands he could see a gleam of joy in her eyes, somehow it made him queasy.

"We are in the forest outside the Granger Mansions. This, I mean the original version of it, guards our place against intruders." She breathed softly.

He knew now. Somewhere beyond this forest would be the great mansion, her home. And that was her destination. He wondered if it would replicate the way she remembered it or be in its present burnt down state and realization dawned. That was exactly what she wanted to know herself, the truth.

"You said it guards your place, _how_?"

"It has enchantments and creatures that keep away intruders and muggles." She replied as she walked directing her wand on the forest floor and moving it over the trunks. He followed her closely as dead leaves and twigs crunched under his shoes. He glanced up at the sky but the canopy of the leaves successfully blocked off any view or any snow for that matter from reaching the untouched floor.

They walked for minutes or perhaps hours, Ron never left sight of her back as she manoeuvred through small gaps between the branches and jumped over innocent looking patches of vines that lay on the ground. He mirrored her actions, trying his best to place his feet at the same points as hers. Without the usual sounds that made up a forest, even a sleepy one at that, the silence of the place was strangely daunting as if mute but deadly assailants were following them close on their heels. More minutes passed as Granger walked on before finally he could feel the density of the trees decreasing slightly.

She stopped suddenly. From between the tree trunks he could roughly make out an open space. A faint blue light glowed. Mesmerised he placed his foot down on an intricate carpet of creepers with small white flowers that glowed in the faint light. He had almost lifted his leg up but realised a minute too late the way the vine curled around his foot and flowers sprung on them even as he watched mesmerized. He looked up. Granger was standing slightly ahead looking at something in the clearing. He bent down to release his leg from the entanglement. The moment his hand touched the thin stems they suddenly turned thicker, gripping his foot harder and he gave a yelp. He looked down in horror as the small white flowers on his leg began transforming into long spikes that pierced through his jeans and entered his leg as a searing pain burned through him.

"Relashio!" he yelled and the vines tore off releasing his leg as he scrambled out of them careful not to place his foot on them again. The part of the creeper that was still clinking on to his leg was slowly turning red from the blood oozing out of the points where the spikes were digging into his flesh. As he bed down to throw the vine off he only hoped it wasn't poisoned.

A jolt on the connector pulled him and he watched Hermione walking ahead. She had not even tuned around. He followed her quickly, limping slightly and wincing at the pain as the tree cover around him fell off to reveal a large open, snow covered space at the centre of which stood three large trees which he realized with horror were Womping Willows. Just beyond the clearing stood a thin layer of trees and Hermione was walking straight towards them ignoring the slight swaying branches of the three monstrous sentinels that stood guard.

"HERMIONE LOOK OUT!" he yelled and running as fast as his injured leg wound allow crashed on the girl and rolled the two of them over just as a heavy branch landed exactly where she was a moment before.

Ignoring her frustrated yelp, he looked up just in time to see the three trees come to life in total fury, swaying their branches, sweeping the snowy floor with their whip like appendages to stop the intruders from crossing their watch post.

"Let me go Weasley!" Hermione struggled to escape the confines of his arms.

"ARE YOU BLOODY INSANE? CAN'T YOU SEE THOSE DAMN THINGS?" he yelled furiously.

"LEAVE ME YOU BRUTE! THEY CAN'T HARM ME, I AM A GRANGER!" she screamed back and his hold on her slackened.

"Are you sure, didn't seem like they know it."

"They do!" she hissed. "Every tree here knows not to harm the family, they only target the intruders. Now let me go!" He left her unwillingly as the silence of the night was still being shredded by the swishing of the branches.

She stood up and he followed suit, standing merely inches away from the limit of the willows. "Granger..."

She did not bother to hear him out and took a couple of quick steps and he noted in horror as three branches swooped down in speed towards her.

Hermione realised a minute too late and was paralyzed with terror as she saw the branches approaching but instead of the whiplash she expected, she felt a push that threw her off the reach of the approaching threat and she landed a little distance away, the snow cushioning her fall. She turned around sharply getting drawn uncontrollably towards where he stood as if invisible ties bound her to him before he screamed 'Relashio!' again and she fell backward as if released from the hold. She turned around to notice that the trees were concentrating on the one prey they had captured as three thick branches whipped across Ron's face and torso throwing him feet away from where he stood. He tried scrambling on his foot and managed for a moment before his leg buckled and another heavy stump hit him straight on his chest. Blow after blow he took and yet he fought to inch closer to her.

"RON!" she yelled and ran as fast as she could towards him on the slippery snow.

"NO! HERMIONE! LOOK OUT!" he screamed instead and she turned around in terror as another swaying branch reached her and hit her straight in her chest. She felt like she had blacked out for a while and it was his urgent voice that woke her up.

"GET UP!" he yelled hunched next to her as the tress swayed all around, hitting them mercilessly. Holding her by the arms, his blood soaked clothes smearing her as well, he pulled her with as much strength as he could muster. At his voice she opened her eyes marginally and yelled at what she saw. "RONNN!" he turned around and was what he saw scared him to bits. A thick branch was making towards them and he made a split second decision and crashed on top of her, shielding her body as much as he could with his own.

The pain that hit him was unimaginable and as his eyes closed he hoped she wasn't hurt bad.

...

It was warm and felt as if a fire was crackling close by. _Where was he?_ He seemed to be lying on hard, uneven ground but his head was resting on something soft. As consciousness returned slowly, so did the pain that seemed to course throughout his body but most of it on his back.

 _Hermione!_ He forced his eyes open, trying to push himself into a sitting position before the world seemed to swim around and he fell back into the soft cushion, a small hand pressed on his chest.

"Don't..." her voice was soft and soothed him more than he thought it would.

"Are you alright?" he asked, his voice sounded scratchy and she laughed a little sadly.

"You have broken a few bones Ron. And are covered in cuts and bruises, and you are asking me if I am fine?"

He opened his eyes slowly this time. The world came into focus and so did her tears and grime soaked face. Melted snow and mud stuck to her scalp and hair and what he had assumed to be a cushion was actually her lap.

"Where are we?" he asked, skirting off her question once more.

"On the other side of the Willows."

"And this place is safe?"

"Yes I hope so. I asked for a safe place and this fire and this circular spot glowed up around us, so I am assuming it is safe here." She replied.

"How did we escape?"

"I lost my wand in the snow when I fell, I used yours to cast a Shield Charm on us, but not before that branch hit you and you lost consciousness. Then I had to use magic to bring you here and keep us shielded at the same time. Thankfully I found my wand back too."

"Thank you." He muttered softly and watched as her eyes pooled with more tears. She wiped them off with the sleeves of her robes.

He pulled himself up slowly. "My bones, are they still broken?" The pain was unbearable but he assumed from experience that the bones had healed.

"No. I healed them, I hope. You need to visit Madam Pomfrey once we are out of here. You are very injured Ron. We need to get away from here at the earliest." She added in a quiet voice that was strained with the effort of holding back her tears.

"Not before we finish what we came here for Granger."

She looked at him in the eye and Ron noticed that she too had multiple scratches on her face.

"You want to see the mansion, to know the truth. Do it and then we can go back."

" _You know...?"_

"You are not as difficult to predict as you think you are." He smiled but with all the pain in his body it came out more as a grimace. "Where is it?"

She indicated behind him. "Just beyond those trees." She muttered softly. Suddenly she did not want to see, _what if her worst fears came true? What if the Order had been telling her the truth all along?_

"Get it done, you can't spend your life wondering and this is the safest way to check on your mansion. So do it. But, will you believe what the room shows you?"

"This room doesn't lie." She replied, her eyes downcast. "I checked you know, it maps the place exactly if we word it correctly. I have asked for it to be as the place is now." She finished with difficulty.

He let out a sight and painfully scrambled up on his injured leg. The jeans was all blood stained and he realised it would be difficult to put his weight on it for very long.

"Come on get up." He called softly and extended a hand out for her to hold.

"You are not strong enough." She said looking into those blue eyes behind that scarred face.

"I'll manage. Just tell me the safe path through the forest."

"There is an intricate web of low growing creepers." She indicated with her fingers and Ron found them to be the same ones with the small white flowers."

"But these..."

"They ensnarl the one who steps on them and pierce them with spikes."

"I know." He replied. "How do we cross them?"

"There is a safe walk pattern that changes every day. There is a code book inside the house that shows what pattern it assumes but I don't know the pattern of the day."

"How did you plan to cross it then?"

"Nothing in the forest touches or harms a Granger. I thought..."

"You would be safe, I get it." He finished for her. The unspoken truth that she had not bothered for his safety hung in the space between them but he did not point it out. He wasn't expecting her to worry about him in the first place.

"I don't know what to do now." She murmured.

"Simple. Ask the room to provide you with a safe path." He answered stunning her. _Such a simple solution really! How had she not thought of it earlier?_

"I need the safe path till the mansion." She spoke to no one in particular but a pattern appeared on the dense growth where the creepers simply disappeared. It was a very narrow track, twisting and turning till it reached the trees at the further end.

"Let's go." He called and she nodded slightly and took a step forward slipping instantly on the loose rocks and falling straight into the glowing flowers. Her hands instinctively touched the bindings and the vines wasted no time in curling around her torso tightly before Ron released her and pulled her away to the safe circle.

"Oh Merlin it hurts!" she yelled as he helped her sit. Not many flowers had begun blooming on the vines around her torso yet and he pulled them away quickly as she clasped his hand and yelled in pain.

"W-What happened?" he asked.

"T-There is a ... spike..b-back R-Ron!"

He turned her around and noticed one single thorn that had broken off from the vine and was embedded deep into her robes. Only a very small portion of it was visible.

"Gosh... It's deep..." he tried pulling it out with his fingers but could not hold it at all.

"Do you know of any spell?" he asked.

"-No..." she replied in pain.

"How do I pull it out?" he murmured as blood gushed out from it.

She fidgeted with the buttons on her robes.

"What are you doing?" he asked shocked.

"T-taking the clothes off a-and then m-maybe..." he stood shell shocked at her suggestion.

"RON DO IT!" she yelped and he took in a deep breath and helped her remove the heavy robe off, pulling it off the protruding thorn. He realised with horror that she was wearing a long gown underneath and removing it would mean...

"W-Wait... I'll just... maybe..." He pinched up the cloth and using his teeth tore off a rough patch over the wound. He dare not use a spell fearing that he would end up hurting her instead. The patch was bigger than necessary and her fair creamy skin stood out against the dark gown in the firelight. Ron hated the rush of blood that flooded his nether region at the sight of her bare back even as he drew his eyes away from it to her wound that brought him back to his senses. He tried holding the fine thing between his fingers but they were much too thick and way too clumsy.

"Bloody hell!" he muttered after several unsuccessful tries as she continued to whimper in pain, bend forward in front of him.

"T-Try pulling it out with your t-teeth."

"W-What?"

" _RON PLEASE!"_

Gulping audibly, he lowered his lips on her bare skin and felt her shudder even as a primitive need coursed through him and he struggled to keep his focus. He felt the thorn with his tongue and then holding the offending article between his teeth pulled it off. Spitting it away he turned back to see more blood oozing out and he instinctive sucked it without once wondering if it was poisoned.

Once the bleeding staunched he paused to hold his breath, the way her body shivered indicated that either she was in much pain or cold, or... Shoving the last thought away he helped her get the heavy robe on again covering her properly.

By the time Hermione looked at him he had turned away and was getting up again.

"Let's be careful." He said and held her hand guiding her through the maze towards the other end.

...

The band of trees was thicker than they appeared and the two walked gingerly along the twisting narrow passage holding on to each other for support. By the time the path ended behind just a single row of trees, the darkness had melted away to be replaced by the golden rays of the rising sun.

As he left her hand Hermione paused in her steps. Just beyond this last barrier were the gates, the driveway and then... She swallowed hard. Her destination was just a few steps away. _How long had she planned for this one moment?_ _Months_ , since the time she had known about this room. She had chalked out how she would reach here unharmed and nick his invisibility cloak near the Womping Willow grounds. Then once she had confirmed the lie of the Order, she would escape hidden under the cloak. She would send an owl to her parents and wait outside the Slytherin dormitory till she found someone who could take her in. If she found no one, she would sneak in herself. How difficult it would be to find out the password hidden under the cloak? And then she was sure Father would come down instantly to get her. She could finally go home!

She let out a shaky breath and turned around at the young Gryffindor standing behind her. His face was still caked in grime and blood and cuts from the willow; that gorgeous hair was sticking out at various angles covered in dry leaves and more blood. She had removed the few remaining thorns from his leg but the jeans leg was still a dark reminder of the blood he had lost and he was still limping slightly. She knew there would be many whip lashes and bruises all over his body, _the ones he had received while saving her_. There were so many instances from this one night that shattered all she thought she knew about him and she was no longer sure what she wanted. _She wanted her parents alive_ reminded her heart and she also wanted, no, _needed_ Ron...

"Go." He said softly and she nodded and with tentative steps crossed the last boundary as he stood behind.

He released a sigh and limped his way out. There was a huge wall with an intricate wrought iron gate that had been pushed open. He walked towards the gate slowly, the gravelled path making the task difficult for his injured legs. He had barely crossed a few yards when there was a heart wrenching sob from beyond the walls and even before he could cross the gate, a blurry image with flying curls ran out and crashed on his chest.

* * *

 ** _A/N: Thanks for reading. Please do leave a review!_**

 ** _Auror Ron Alan Weasley: Thank you so much for your continued support!_**

 ** _whdixon63: Thank you. This chapter should have told you who the cat is._**

 ** _heronlove: Thanks a lot! Well fluff will be tough to come by, more of angst actually. Hope you liked this chapter._**

 ** _notsing: As always I am looking forward to your views on this final reveal._**

 ** _Wallflower Weasels: Thanks a ton! (Specially for saying 'your Ron' *blush *blush)_**

 ** _Zalini: I know it was creepy and here is the chapter that paves the way for many changes. Do let me know what you think. Thank you for your review_**

 ** _nirdoodle: By now I'm sure you know that you are one of the two reviews I mention about at the beginning. Do tell me what you think of this chapter_**

 ** _JeanandBilius: Thank you so very much!_**

 ** _chemrunner57: I absolutely understand where you were coming from and although I had this chapter I had to create that grim foreshadowing before the big bang. I am glad you are enjoying the story and I hope to receive your continued support._**

 ** _ShilenKnight: Thank you so very much for those words. Really, thank you._**

 ** _EisforElephant: Well I am happy that my story got you reading a Romione, and enjoying it. Keeping my fingers crossed. Thank you for your review._**


	17. When You are You

**A/N: I had planned most of this chapter as a part of the previous one but that got a bit lengthy so had to cut it short. Loved the fact that you all liked it**

 **I have to mention that I am kind of assuming that all of my readers have read all the books of the HP series because as I have said before this story is almost a close parallel track to the original one.**

 **Btw have you guys seen this video on youtube called 'Ron & Hermione - someone's bound to get burned' by Wizarding World Shopping Channel? It's my absolute favourite and kind of an inspiration for this after I was stuck with a writer's block.**

* * *

 **All character, props etc belong to JKR.**

 **Chapter 17: When You are You**

 _"Go." He said softly and she nodded and with tentative steps crossed the last boundary as he stood behind._

 _He released a sigh and limped his way out. There was a huge wall with an intricate wrought iron gate that had been pushed open. He walked towards the gate slowly, the gravelled path making the task difficult for his injured legs. He had barely crossed a few yards when there was a heart wrenching sob from beyond the walls and even before he could cross the gate, a blurry image with flying curls ran out and crashed on his chest._

He stumbled at the sudden onslaught of weight, his injured leg giving away and causing him to crash down on the gravel and snow, pulling her along. It was hard to figure out if she had even noticed their change in position as she continued to sob and shake violently, her fist clutching onto his jacket.

"Hey..." he called gently as his left arm wrapped around her waist of their own accord and she gripped him harder. It wasn't clear what exactly she would have witness in the small span of time to return to him so broken but he could at least guess that it was a proof of the harsh truth. Dropping his wand next to him on the ground Ron was at the verge of wrapping her in his arms more snugly but stopped just in time.

"Granger?" he called carefully instead. She twitched slightly at his voice and with a sharp intake of breath made an attempt to move apart. He only realized then how entangled they were having fallen down together. His injured foot was sitting at an awkward angle. He removed his hand from her waist and assumed her to have taken that as a gesture for his need for space as she shifted away a little. Her delicate jaw quivered and she bit her lip to cut out the whimpers as a steady stream of tears rolled down her downcast eyes. She lifted a shaky hand to her face to wipe the moisture off but more tears ran down in quick succession. He groaned internally. A part of him wanted nothing more than to pull her to his chest and let her weep her heart out in his arms and yet there was just another part restraining him. She possibly sensed his discomfort or perhaps needed space too as she untangled herself and clambered away towards the gate. While Ron attempted to stand up on his unsteady legs, he saw her collapsing back on the hard cold ground as her heartbreaking wails tore the silence of the surrounding.

He cursed under his breath. The snow was seeping in through his clothes and almost choking his bones. Neither of them was dressed to be out in this weather. He tried a water repelling charm on his shoes and jeans. He wasn't sure she was in a state to care about these things but a look up at the sky where dark clouds were steadily moving in dimming the sunlight told him they would be in for more rough weather if they stayed here any longer. Exhaustion was almost draining him and the pain where the tree had hit him was sore and stiff. They had to get out of here. _What was she expecting to see here? Why couldn't she just believe what he had said and saved herself this agony?_ _Why didn't he just leave when she had suggested it?_ But he knew the answer - she had been in denial about her parent's death all these months and needed the closure that only the truth, no matter how harsh it was, could provide. He limped towards her just as a few snowflakes drifted down towards them. Ron knew they needed to move inside some sort of shelter or else even with all their charms, they would freeze to death out here before they could make their way back out of this Room.

She had crouched down just inside the limit of the gate. On reaching her, his eyes were instantly drawn towards the scene inside and whatever he was prepared for, this was not it. For a moment he stood still, forgetting that this was just a mirage inside a Room in his school and not the actual grounds of the barbarous crime.

The decaying expanse of land, which must have once been a spectacle of beauty and grandeur, now lay across the snow covered ground like a decaying corpse. Even snow seemed repelled by it as the whole area lay devoid of it, a dark mass in stark contrast against its white surroundings. Pulled to it by intrigue as well as repulsion, he limped closer as his eyes scanned the carcass of the structure. Ron had heard of the Fiend Fire, it was almost a taboo in the wizarding world and now he knew why. The mansion did not look burnt down; it looked like the heat of the fire had melted every brick and body, animate and inanimate, alive. What a horrible way to die! He could roughly make out a few half dissolved pieces of marble that must have adorned the massive structure, for even in death it was not difficult to see how enormous a place it would have been, stretched across acres. So, the true extent of evil they were up against was _this_. He could hardly fathom what the devil that had no qualms in killing his own so brutally, would do with his enemies. Suddenly he felt extremely vulnerable, his parents, brothers they were all out there without a protection of a magical forest or guards. If the Grangers didn't stand a chance after all this, his family and all the others were barely safe!

He turned around sharply looking at the sole person who had made it alive and unbidden an image of her lying dead among the wrecks came into his mind. He hurried towards her, forgetting his pain momentarily and then ignoring it as it seared through his leg as he walked. He realised he would be eternally thankful to the Headmaster and whoever else had saved her from this horrific fate.

The snow was falling heavily now and Hermione was still crouched down sobbing, a fine layer of snow covering her when a pair of strong but gentle hands touched her shoulders.

"Come on, we need to find a shelter and quick." His voice sounded different somehow, softer, even caring perhaps, but she could barely make out his face through the cloud of tears that hazed her vision. She allowed him to help her up as his arm wrapped around her.

"Should we go near the trees?" he asked her softly. She shook his head and swallowed another sob.

"I w-want to go back R-Ron... I-I want t-to leave this p-place now." She managed between whimpers as her lips continued to quiver from pain and also cold he thought. "T-Take me back, p-please?"

He sighed hard. He wanted to leave too but they still had to fight the snow, the creepers, the Whomping Willows and the forest before they could even reach the door. Their injuries wouldn't be a help either. "I wish we could just get to the exit door now." He groaned and then watched in surprise as the forest melted in front of their eyes to leave an expanse of open snow covered land with a single door standing alone in the middle of it all.

He released a breath he didn't realize he was holding. "Come on..." he called and held her closer. Their feet sunk inside the layer of snow and he cast the same spell on her clothes. The chill was unbearable and she shivered in his arms despite the repeated warming spells that almost faded out soon as they were cast. He wondered if he ought to take her down to the Hospital Wing straight away. But then how on earth would he explain their injuries to the nurse? Even if he made his own up as a nasty fall from the broom, Hermione's bruises in her hidden chamber would seriously make the woman call the Headmaster and Professor McGonagall for added measure.

She was too distraught to notice or care anything apart from leaving this horrific place that seemed to saw her heart into pieces, but she noticed he had stopped walking. It was then she realised that some spell would have been used to stop the cold from seeping into her bones through her shoes; both her dress and her woollen robes were also dry but getting soaked again. The only part of her body that felt genuinely warm was the portion that was pressed to his chest. She looked up at him questioningly.

"We have to heal you first."

"But..."

"We can't go to the Hospital Wing and explain our injuries, not yours at least." He sighed.

"We need ointments and potions for our wounds." She said aloud as her teeth chattered and voice sounded hoarse even to her own ears. They waited and waited and while they grew cold nothing materialized.

"Why is it not working?" he wondered aloud.

"Maybe...Maybe because those things are not related to this room? We... We might have to go out and ask for a hospital ward or something?" she suggested concentrating her focus on the task at hand, it did not kill the pain but helped ever so slightly to be distracted.

"Maybe..." He agreed and pulled out the cloak and dropped it over themselves. "Just in case." He told her as they fought their way towards the door, the cloak making them slightly warmer as it held their body heats in.

...

Harry glanced at his watch again rubbing the drowsiness off his eyes. He hadn't slept much, dozing off in the chair in front of the fire in the early hours of the morning with the map still spread open on his lap. The two names were still missing.

 _Seven bloody hours since the two of them left._

He rubbed his eyes with the base of his palms and scanned the map again drawing his eyes to the route from the seventh floor corridor noticing with horror as another set of footsteps were steadily walking up the steps on the fourth floor. He knew the owner of those steps and knew exactly where they were heading. Muttering a specific expletive under his breath he stuffed the map inside his pocket and picking up his wand dashed out of the portrait hole.

He couldn't be more thankful for all his sneaking around the castle and the map that ensured that he and Ron were more informed than many about the secret passageways and short cuts to locations within the school. By the time he reached the left corridor before the Room where his adversary would soon appear in, he was panting heavily and holding his sides heaving. He pulled out the map quickly and sighed with relief as two names appeared out of the blue just in the passage behind him but hidden from view so far. But another set of footstep was fast approaching him and he quickly stuffed the map inside even as the actual person rounded around the corner and stood feet away from him, his paler than usual face scrunched into an ugly frown that displayed both surprise and a tiny bit of fear.

"Potter." Sneered the new arrival.

"Malfoy." He replied back in a similar tone, clasping his wand harder and noticing the other boy do the same.

"What are you doing here?" scowled Draco as if he had found Harry loitering around his private chambers in the Manor and not in their school.

"I could ask you the same question Malfoy." He retorted hoping that Ron was able to hear him and also that Granger would do nothing stupid like running out to the blonde for help or something similar.

"What I do is none of your business."

"Likewise." He replied.

"You will never learn to keep your nose out of other people's business, will you?" growled the Sytherin and even before the incantations on both their lips had been completed, a powerful shield charm erupted between the two throwing them backward. Fixing his glasses back Harry sprang up fast to notice the Headmaster watching him with his piercing blue eyes over the top of his half moon spectacles.

"Well I won't say I approve this way of spend the Christmas holidays boys." He said softly but firmly.

Harry looked sheepish but Malfoy merely looked away annoyed.

"I don't want to find the two of you in this position again. Now, Harry go along and Mr Malfoy will come with me for a cup of tea."

The look of annoyance dropped from that face to depict first shock and then anger. "Why?" Draco asked.

"Because I am telling you so!" smiled the Headmaster and gestured for Draco to proceed who glared at Harry and then huffed away without a backward glance. Harry noticed the blue eyes twinkle before Dumbledore too left with a smile. Heaving a sigh of relief he quickly hid behind the nearest passage hidden behind a tapestry and pulled out the map again. He almost groaned out aloud noticing that the two names had disappeared from the map again.

...

As soon as they were inside the warm, white room, Ron pulled the invisibility cloak away and shoved it inside his pocket again. That was a narrow shave, if he had not heard Harry or worse if Malfoy had ended up outside the corridor precisely when they came out, things would have been seriously fucked up. For some strange reason, at the sound of the blonde Granger had gone all stiff and had hid behind him, forgetting perhaps that they were invisible anyway.

He tried moving ahead if only to slump down on the clean bed that looked so very inviting but realised that she was still holding on to his left arm tightly and shaking with her eyes still shut tight. There was no way he could push her off, not after what he saw. He knew this was temporary, the need, her dependency but no matter how much his brain told him to keep away to retain the last traces of his sanity, to avoid getting burned again, he knew he would do it for her. And this was still an illusion; the Room and whatever came with it- material and abstract, wasn't it? He just had to allow things to unfold at their will and later on when the pain came with the darkness of the night, he would simply assume that he had dreamt it all.

"Hermione?" he called again and she opened her bloodshot eyes in shock on hearing her given name from his lips.

"It's okay. We are inside a hospital ward or something. Come on..." he coaxed. She followed him wordlessly. _It is alright, just concentrate on one thing at a time, don't think, just focus on this moment._ She told herself.

She glanced around. He had called the Room well. It looked more or less like the school's hospital wing but only smaller. There was a medicine cabinet between two beds and fresh set of hospital gowns for two.

"Let's heal your injuries first." He said before her.

"But you are more hurt." She replied. Her voice was strained and hoarse.

"I can go to Madame Pomfrey Hermione, we need to heal you." He reasoned and limped ahead to the space between the beds and began checking on the various potions and ointments that lay there.

She continued to stand behind looking at the tall figure. His jacket was torn at multiple places to reveal the maroon jumper underneath and dark brown stains stood out on his jeans that were ripped at many places where the spikes had pierced through his skin. His usually shiny hair was sticking to his head and if she was not mistaken the spots near his fair neck just below his hairline were not just grime. He looked worn out and shabby and yet she couldn't remember a single man she had ever seen who looked more handsome than Ron Weasley did at that moment.

 _It isn't the clothes that makes a man Mother, or his pockets or gold._

"Come here." He called and she obeyed. He handed her an uncorked vial. "This should help with the pain." He said.

She met his eyes silently and lowering her own, took a sip. The burning taste scorched her throat for a minute before the heat transferred to the rest of her body dulling the ache, at least the physical part of it.

"You should take it too." She said softly and handed him the vial. For a moment perhaps his pupils dilated as his eyes lingered first on her and then the bottle she had touched to her lips and then the moment was gone. He took a swig and wiping his mouth with the back of his sleeves dropped it back on the table to pick up another taller bottle that held a green gooey liquid.

"This doesn't look very inviting but the label says it should be an antidote to most plant related poisons." He said looking a little uneasy. She nodded slightly and turning around, unbuttoned the robe and set it aside. She heard the sharp intake of his breath and it was a moment before he spoke.

"M-May I?"

"Please..." she whispered and sat down on the side of the bed facing away from him. She closed her eyes as his calloused fingers spread the ointment on her lower back, the very spot which had been extremely lucky to have been touched by his lips earlier. The spark that ran through her at his touch was no longer limited to just her body, somehow it reached her very soul, the core of her heart which she perhaps didn't even know existed before this moment. With every ounce of will power she possessed she stopped herself from turning around and burying herself in his chest. He would probably not push her away but his sympathy was not what she wanted.

"Um... You might want to keep it that way for a while for the ointment to work, you know?" he said and even without turning around she could almost see the reddening of his face. She turned around slowly.

"Your turn." She said unable to hold back the adoration from seeping in her words. He looked at her like she had sprouted an extra head.

"W-What?"

She heaved a sigh and tried to smile although her face muscles seemed to be too tired for it.

"Your leg...", she had almost added ' _Ron'_ but stopped at the last minute. She didn't want to break the spell. After the coldness of the Room before and her fate and future, this Room, _this Ron_ radiated the warmth she so desperately craved. Even if it was an illusion she would easy swap it for her real life if she could.

He was still standing dumbstruck. "Sit." She said indicating the bed and he obliged as if he didn't know what else to do if he refused.

Hermione pulled a footstool from below the other bed and sat down. Gingerly she placed her hands at his ankles to pull the cloth up and he winced aloud. "What are you doing? I-I can do that myself!" he muttered through his teeth as he grasped the bed in pain.

She gave him an exasperated stare. "No you can't. You can barely bend your knees."

She rolled up the legs ignoring his protest and ripped the jeans with her wand slightly once she reached his calves to avoid them grazing his wounded skin underneath. She could always mend it later.

She almost cried out at what she saw. More than six places had deep puncture marks on that fair skin that was covered with a fine layer of ginger hair. _How was he even walking around with this? Not to mention fighting the Whomping Willow?_

She bit her lips in anguish as she tenderly applied the ointment, pouring generous amounts inside each wound.

"Um... Thanks. You shouldn't have." He said when she was done.

"Don't thank me...please..." she replied softly as guilt seeped out of her eyes in the form of tears.

There was a moment when blue orbs met the brown, that space of a heartbeat where things could change and future could be something else. But the two held on their positions and the moment passed.

Ron handed her another ointment for the cuts which she identified as Essence of Dittany and they passed it amongst each other silently as they rubbed it on their faces and arms. Finally, skin healed and looking slightly better she picked up the last bottle.

"This is for severe bruising." She said reading off the label.

"Well you should apply it first." He suggested and moved away to stand near the window facing away. She took in his form and went behind the hospital curtains that stood a little distance away.

His leg was healing and the pain in the other parts of his body had subsided to a large extent too. His back still felt stiff and strained though. He stood watching the sunny but snowy grounds that resembled nothing outside the school grounds and was just another illusion. A shuffling and he realised with horror that the glass reflected the curtains beyond which she stood. And although he could not see her, he could make out her dark gown that she had undone and hung up on the frames of the green stands. He looked away immediately trying not to pay attention to the image that was steadily forming in his mind of her in her satin under garments. As the image began to get more detailed, highlighting the swell of her breasts covered by a thin layer of black satin and the creamy skin he had seen partly only moments ago, he closed his eyes shut, fisting his fingers till his nails dug inside the flesh.

"FUCK!" he swore quietly, his breath coming out in gasps.

She cleared her throat behind him moments later and he turned around a little guiltily.

"Your turn." She said handing him the bottle looking a little pink around the cheeks herself. He took it and moved towards the curtain while she stood as if words she wasn't sure about voicing aloud were held at her lips.

It was a little difficult with the stiff back to get his jacket off but the jumper was worse, already tight as it was. He finally pulled up his tee and smeared the ointment all over his multiple bruises on the chest and let out a sigh of relief. He twisted his arm back but there seemed to be no possible means to get his back done by himself. After a few tries that only left his arms tired he was ready to give up.

"May I?" came a quiet voice from beyond the curtain and he could almost feel his ears and neck flaming up.

"N-No, thanks... I can manage." He said.

"Please? I know how bad the ones on your back possibly are." She said again.

" _Please?_ " She called again as he was still silent and this time Ron came out clad only in his jeans that hung low on his waist.

She cursed her eyes that hung onto that scratched but sexy exposed body, that almost white chest that was not completely chiselled yet but was getting there soon, those shoulders that looked perfect to bear all the strain that his Gryffindor heart would pull onto himself, that taunt muscle at his navel and the faint line of ginger hair that ran down to disappear below... She averted her eyes and was very aware of the blood pumping through her veins; her cheeks would burst out at this rate.

It was difficult to know his reaction without looking at his face but she could not call the strength to glance up. The silence of the room was broken by the rugged breathing of the two occupants and then he turned around and she was pulled to reality at the sight of the dark blackish purple marks that covered almost the entirety of it.

...

Harry stood watching the map. Merlin, Ron had to leave that Room now! Suddenly two sets of feet appeared and he spent not a moment in leaving his hiding place and stormed out.

He watched the map and heard a whisper coming from ahead.

" Harry!"

"You're an arse Ron! Do you have any clue what time it is?" he hissed.

"Yeah... Sorry mate." Came a voice from his next and he huffed.

"Straight to the dorm now."

"Yeah." Called Ron and he felt himself being pulled inside the cloak and surprisingly he was pressed between Ron and a very flustered looking Hermione Granger.

* * *

 _ **A/N: Thanks for reading. Waiting for your reviews as always...**_

 _ **Thanks to all of my lovely reviewers**_

 _ **Wallflower Weasles: Well Rowling just needed to kill Sirius off, that annoys me to no ends but I doubt the Room would have worked that way. Any way Harry could have asked the Room to give him a safe fireplace perhaps, who knows? He should have used that mirror! Stupid bloke!**_

 _ **Auror Ron Alan Weasley: Yes it was a horrible flood. Thanks.**_

 _ **chemrunner57: what about this chapter?**_

 _ **Zalini: Oh please do write. There is a dearth of Romione writers**_

 _ **JeanandBilius: Thank you.**_

 _ **whdixon63: So how was this?**_

 _ **notsigh: So glad you liked it. Hope you like this one too.**_

 _ **Guest: Well yes, you are right.**_

 _ **brighteyes2889: Lots of change coming up for the two.**_

 _ **nirdoodle: Well taking her out actually would be much too difficult to write! Glad you liked it.**_

 _ **rhfan:Well I love writing him this way too**_

 _ **recks21: I can barely wait to know your views on this.**_

 _ **mia2788: Lot of angst and generous does of sexual tension in lined for future.:)**_

 _ **Gogoldel: Don't we all love Ron, angry, jealous, whatever he does, don't we?**_

 _ **Guest: That is such a so fantastic**_

 _ **heronlove: Yes she will but Ron has a long way to go before he trusts her.**_


	18. Darkness and a Sliver of Light

**A/N: I feel so humbled by your fantastic reviews. Believe me it's the support of all you guys reading it that makes this story come to life. So Thank YOU!**

 **Enjoy the story and please leave a review.**

 **All characters, props and places mentioned here belong to JKR. The plot line is mine.**

* * *

 **Chapter 18: Darkness and a Sliver of Light**

"Err... Hi..." mumbled Harry in a low tone and Hermione replied just as softly. Guarded on either side by the boys and hidden under the ingenious cloak, the three trudged along quite passageways towards her safe quarters in the Gryffindor Tower.

She took in a deep breath trying hard not to think how everything around her was different from what she had hoped it would be. There was no chance of going back home now... There was no longer anyplace called ' _home_ ' anymore, she realised with a chocked sob, no writing letters to her Father, no waiting for him to come to her rescue. Tears that were barely hidden beneath the surface sprang up to life clouding her vision again, a whimper escaping her dry lips. She felt the boys stop and turn at her even though her eyes were firmly focused on a blurry image that were her shoes. She hated feeling vulnerable and broken down in front of them although to be honest Ron had seen her in even worse conditions. But it wasn't just him now, Potter was there too. It was a complex mix of emotions to feel so weak and helpless and let a person you assumed to be your enemy see you and at the same time know that all that you had been taught to believe in blindly was questionable in the first place.

"Come on..." said a voice as she felt those warm, familiar long fingers wrap around hers and she drew in strength from their joined hands. If Potter wondered about the sudden change in equation between them, he did not comment and they continued their pace. Once they had almost reached the portrait of the Fat Lady however, the boys pulled her into a gap in the walls that was hidden behind a long tapestry and Potter extracted himself out of the cloak. She stood confused as Ron tugged on her hand wordlessly and the couple followed silently in the other boy's wake. The two best mates hardly spoke a word but she realized that they moved together like a pair of twins who knew exactly what was going on in the other's mind. Potter spoke the password and within the tiny space of time when he deliberately dawdled in front of the now open portrait hole, Ron had successfully pulled her inside.

The cloak was pulled away as soon as the door closed and Ron left her hand to crash down on a couch that had seen better days. Hermione stood where she was though, feeling suddenly exposed and surprised at not having being taken away to her chambers immediately as always.

"Sit." Called the taller boy and she looked between her two companions before she took tentative steps forward to occupy a large armchair by the fire. She noted Potter was still standing glancing between his best mate and their Sytherin refugee, his furrowed brows and calculating expression making it obvious that he was still lost.

"Care to tell me what exactly is going on Ron?" he asked finally. Ron responded by stretching his arms above his head and then massaging his shoulder, finally gave a look that simply told him, "Later."

Harry glanced down irritably at his best mate not missing the torn jacket or the mud stains on that red hair. _Wait ! Was that blood?_ He turned around Granger. Even without having had any one to one conversation with her, he was aware of the fire that she personified, the fire which was very much present when the duo had left the night before. Now she looked broken and dishevelled. The slouched shoulders, the tear stricken face and mud and grime on her face was so distinctly different from her prim and proper self that he was surprised enough to spent moments staring at her before she felt his gaze and turned her head to meet his eyes. He shook his head apologetically and looked away.

 _Where had the two been all this time to return like this?_

"Care for some hot tea the two of you?" he asked. Surely spending summers at the Burrow was rubbing off him. A steaming mug was on Molly's first aid list for everything from a broken heart to surviving a deadly duel.

"And food." yawned Ron.

"Well you might want to change before you go down." Replied his best mate, "But another ten minutes and we'll miss breakfast. I might as well go down to the kitchen and ask Dobby if he can get us a few sandwiches at least." He picked up the invisibility cloak and looking once between the pair let him out.

Ron watched Harry leave and turned around at the only other figure in the room. It was a little strange having her here in their common room, a bit different from how he was used to.

"Err... I suggest you should freshen up a bit, Harry shouldn't take long." He said softly and she left her chair wordlessly, still looking down which he assumed was just a way to hide her tears. He followed her as she went towards his bed and paused. He pressed his hand on the marked spot and the passage to her chambers appeared. She glanced at the archway and slowly turned around and looked him in the eye. Those brown pools were bloodshot and she blinked as they cascaded down the well worn path on her cheeks.

"Thank you, for... for everything that you have done for me." She said in a quiet voice. "I –"she began but stopped as if at loss for words or unable to focus on the conversation.

"It's alright." He replied solemnly. "It wasn't anything pleasant and I am sorry for... you know..." he stumbled at the word his brain generated- 'your parents'. "Well...Everything." he said instead.

She nodded and climbed up the bed and went to the other side. "I'll come in some time and we can have breakfast together." He called to his own surprise.

...

The warm water that gushed down his back soothed his aching muscles as his palms rested on the wall ahead. He had planned for a dip in the pool in the prefect's bathroom but had hit the shower instead because it would be quicker. There were still quite a few scratches and bruises he had missed and they stinged painfully as they came in contact with the soap. His scalp hurt at places too. All in all he was glad they had left the place in one piece. A nagging voice inside him chided for being so helpful to the girl who had meticulously planned it out, and if all went as per her plan she would not have felt even a tad bit sorry for him either. But she _had_ come to him when he was getting attacked by the Willows, hadn't she? A small bubble of hope materialized despite himself. She had come back for him in the forest and she had cared for him in that ward. A nerved twitched at the way her soft hands had felt on his back, the way her eyes scanned his bare chest and gaze dropped down till she blushed furiously and looked away, the way her chest heaved at the closeness... He closed his eyes allowing the water to slide down and the memory to wash over him... _Just this once_ he told himself...

 _Her fingers were soft, softer than he had realised when they held hands and struggled to escape the snow and the cold. And they were gentle and caring as they applied the ointment on his aching back. He wondered if the soothing effect was due to the substance she was applying or her touch. He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply cutting out the pain that had almost escaped his lips as she touched a particularly sore spot. The thick coat of the gooey paste she had applied cooled it substantially and he released a sigh of relief only to stop suddenly. She was softly blowing over his back..._

 _The sensation was mind blowing, the feeling of having her so close, those slightly parted lips his could easily picture in his mind, the way her breath both tickled and aroused him simultaneously. He turned around without warning and suddenly she was blowing on his chest instead, eyes closed._

" _Hermione..." he called despite himself, knowing well how her name sounded from his lips, dripping with lust and longing. She stopped abruptly and met his eyes coyly before lowering them again, licking her dry lips and gulping softly. He watched the moisture glistening on the now slightly parted pink on her face, her chest was heaving rather fast and Ron felt the room getting warmer, the pristine white bed was looking more inviting by the minute and for a purpose distinctly different from resting his aching limbs._

 _She met his eyes again and this time he clearly saw the determination and possibly a slight bit of challenge in those brown orbs- a challenge for him to take what she knew he wanted, what he realised with a jolt she wanted too but just then a single tear dropped down and in that moment, he for once understood the unspoken message – she was ready to give herself up if only to forget for a while the pain that tore her insides, if only to feel wanted and a sense of belonging somewhere. It broke his heart more than he thought it would and he knew she felt the change in his eyes as her own pleaded him to get on and act on his basic impulse._

 _His hand almost reached up to tangle in her hair so he plunged them deep inside his pocket instead. There was no way he was taking advantage of her when she was so broken and deluded by grief._

" _We... We are tired and messed up. Let's just...pretend this never happened." He said struggling to sound normal and realising that nothing had happened between them in the first place. She looked at him in shock and pain before turning away._

" _Granger..." he called as he pulled down the shirt and put it on and then moved in front of her as she stood her ground but faced away. An apprehensive hand gently moved to tuck a stray lock behind her ear and she finally looked at the owner._

" _You need rest... you don't know what you are asking for... Trust me...if... if we... well... You'll regret it Hermione." he finished with difficulty. Emotions baffled him and at times at these, fancy words were never exactly his forte. She looked embarrassed and nodded while Ron let out a deep breath both cheering and cursing himself for what he had done. Moving away from her and hiding behind the curtain, Ron pulled on his torn jumper and jacket, all the while concentrating on creepy images like Umbridge snogging Flinch to control a special part of his anatomy that was protesting loudly about the sudden change of events._

...

Harry was sitting on the couch, three plates of sandwiches and same number of cups occupied the table before him. He turned around as the portrait door opened Ron walked in.

The taller boy threw the small clothes bag on a spare chair and sat himself down.

"Looks like it has been a rough night for the two of you." Said Harry as he picked up the steaming mug and took a deep sip.

"Well yeah." Replied Ron as he pulled out a plate and then placed it back again.

"Care to tell me now or will you drag it on forever?" asked Harry annoyed.

Ron took a deeper breath and turned to face around his best mate. There was so much to say... He started from the beginning.

...

"So she finally believes it now?"

"Yeah."

The boys sat quietly watching into the fireplace. Ron hated keeping things from Harry but there were a few instances that felt way too private to share even with his best mate.

"What now? Do you think this will change how she views the two sides?" inquired Harry breaking his momentary distraction.

"If this doesn't, nothing else will." He replied watching the untouched plate of food and the only cup that held a now cold tea.

"Ron?"

"Yeah?"

"How do you feel about all this? Surely you know you could have been hurt bad. I'm not sure if she planned it that way but there always was a chance." Ron could see Harry was holding himself from blurting out an _'I told you so!'_.

"I admit it was a risk. But it's all over now, isn't it?" he replied stifling a yawn. His aching muscles needed rest and while the potions and antidotes healed and cured they did not really make up for a sleepless night. Harry wasn't looking very bright either.

"Guess we should catch up on that sleep we lost." He said stifling a second yawn.

"What about Granger's breakfast?" asked Harry indicating the plate as he got up.

"I'll just give it to her." Said Ron as he picked it up after casting a warming charm on them walked towards their room before his friend. Even though Ron had not hinted at it at all, Harry was sure this was a turning point in the redhead's relationship with their guest. He could almost see it. But he would have to keep an eye out. Ron would not take well to another heart break and it was never clearer than now that the ginger was still besotted with the curly haired witch.

...

"Granger?" he called softly and placed the plate and cup down on the centre table. The entire place was eerily silent.

"Granger?" he called a little loudly this time and walked towards the door of her bedroom noticing the wand that was kept over the drawer. The door was still closed and placing a tentative hand on the knob he pressed his ears on the wood but all was silent still. Worried, he knocked on the door with his knuckles again.

"GRANGER?" he called loudly still and then with a tired sigh turned the knob.

It was unlocked and opened easily to reveal a small but tidy room with a made up four poster bed with green and silver curtains. There was a large window with a clear view of the Quidditch pitch. He roughly looked around noticing a wardrobe and finally a smaller door. He stood for a minute contemplating on his next course of action but anxiety soon caught over and he pace quickly and knocked softly on the door.

"Granger?"

"Her- Hermione?" he called again.

"Ron?"

He really thought he must be hearing voices but she sounded hoarse like she had been crying but also kind of relieved to hear his voice perhaps?

"Are you alright in there? It's been almost an hour now!"

"R-Really? Oh... I'll be there..." she replied in a soft voice and he could hear her stumbling out of the bath and water splashing around. He could almost picture her –

"Err... I-I guess I'll wait outside." He replied quickly and moving out of the room, pulled the door close behind him.

...

Hermione mechanically wrapped the towel around her torso. Her fingers were crinkled and white. She looked into the mirror, seeing but hardly noticing herself as water dripped down her curls on her shoulder. Had it really been so long? Her throat seemed parched as she pulled the door open to an empty bedroom. From the moment she had come inside her chamber, the memories from her past had been swirling around in front of her eyes. The way her mother smiled as they walked in the gardens, the way she sat with her father in the library discussing everything from ancient magic to politics, the way she remembered them together and then the horrifying black pool that was all that was left of her home and family. The pain had not lessened a bit from the time she had seen the visual, each minute the loss seemed to become more real, the future darker and more hopeless. She wished she could have died along with them, she wished she could have seen them just one more time to tell them how much she loved them, hugged her mother one more time, just one more time... She wished she could have done something to save them... As the tears cascaded down again, she pulled out one dress from the bottom of the trunk that she had been given and packed by mistake. Then taking a deep, shaky breath she changed.

Ron cast another warming spell on the cup. She was taking long still and he was tempted to knock again when the door opened. He looked at the figure who came out, trying mentally to match this girl with the Hermione Granger he knew but failing miserably. She wore black, but it wasn't just the colour but the dress. It was a gown one wore when in mourning.

He wanted to tell her that the mourning period was long gone but he did not.

"We figured you must be hungry." He said instead and guided her towards the couch. She took a seat but did not bother picking up the food or the tea.

"I don't feel like eating." She muttered softly but he picked up the mug and handed it to her none the less.

"But you must. Starving yourself won't solve anything." He said as he took the single couch next to her, watching intently at the mug in her hands.

She took it because she wanted him to stay. The loneliness of the chamber made her grief more profound like pieces of actual dagger that pierced through her heart.

Ron watched the shivering of her hands that held the hot beverage and groaned internally wishing that his Mum was here to help. He had no clue how to help her. Eventually fearing that she would spill the hot liquid on herself, he got up from his place and sitting down next to her, pulled the mug away and placed his hand gently on hers.

There wasn't much Hermione could do to hold herself in. Turning around slightly she buried her face in his chest, not caring if he would shun her away, she was much too broken to care about pride and way too deep in need for comfort, even if it was rooted in sympathy rather than love. For the second time Ron decided to go with the flow as he wrapped his arms around her and placed his chin on her still wet hair as she sobbed into his chest.

"T-They did n-not deserve to d-die like this..." she managed between sobs.

"No they didn't." He replied softly.

"They...They deserved a p-proper f-funeral at least." She muttered before breaking down in heart-wrenching sobs again and he held her closer. He allowed her to cry her heart out which she did and it was a long time before the sobs turned to occasional whimpers. It was longer before she made an effort to move in his arms or he left her.

"I-I'm sorry..." she said finally as she moved slightly and he removed his hands. She wiped the last tear with her sleeves, looking worn out. He stared at her for a while and then warmed the tea again. He placed the mug in her hands.

"Drink. This will help." She took a sip and he picked up the sandwich.

"I'm not hungry."

"Starving yourself won't really help."

She laughed a small mirthless laugh. "Nothing will help."

"Look Granger, I admit I don't know how painful it must be for you but you can't stop life from moving on." He tried.

"Moving on? What do I have left to live for Ron?" she asked in anguish. "I don't have a family, don't have a home, what do I live for? I don't even belong anywhere."

"Surely you do, you are not living on the streets are you? I know it's going to sound rude but what you are mourning has happened months ago really and still you are here, care for and kept safe."

She looked at him as if seeing him for the first time. "Why is the Order doing this for me? They could have let me die." She asked in a quiet voice.

He ignored the painful image that came up at her words. "Because that is what our side does. Save as many as we can."

"Save from what? That is the final eventuality anyway. He is going to win and you know it. No one has a chance. Why fight?" she asked hopelessly.

"You really can't be saying that Granger!" he exclaimed. "I know we are up against a possibly impossible task but we have to try. I know there will be causalities and not like we haven't lost people. Look at Harry, look at Neville both have lost parents to the war in one way or the other, doesn't mean we'll give up."

"Even though you will put your family at risk?" she asked.

"My family will be targeted anyway because we are the blood traitors remember? And almost everyone is in the Order anyway. Doesn't mean I am not scared to lose them, I am, very much. But we have been in this forever and there is only one way to go now, forward. We fight to the end, either the end of the war or the life."

She looked at him in awe and he finally left the couch to stand up. "Come on." He called extending a hand, she took it unquestioningly and together they left the room again.

...

She was sitting on his bed as Harry and Ron occupied the opposite one. It had been hours since they had come out of her chamber and she had spent a relatively pleasant day with the boys for company. It had been snowing all day and the trio sat together in the common room first where she had sat doing her homework occasionally watching the two best friends as they played chess and later on, solely on her urging pulled out their own home works grudgingly. It was a different kind of experience as neither of the two was as dedicated as Daphne used to be and more often than not their discussions drifted to Quidditch or something else. They discussed their essays and she corrected their sentences and oddly enough liked it. It took her mind off the unpleasant thoughts. They even had their dinner in the common room and finally moved to the dormitory where she sat on Ron's bed realizing that she was actually dreading going back to her lonely quarters again. The two had apparently forgotten about it for Ron made no attempts to unlock the door and she did not remind him. Instead they sat together chatting. The bed was soft and not really made well but it smelled like him which made it all cosy. Before she knew she was wrapped in his blankets and fast asleep.

She did not notice the two boys share a knowing smile or the look of adoration that the taller of the two send her way as he moved away to occupy another spare bed.

* * *

 _ **A/N: This chapter took horribly long time to come out the way I wanted it to. Really hope you liked it. Please leave a review. I will respond to all your reviews for the previous chapter in this space latest in the next 24 hrs.**_

 _ **Thanks for reading!**_


	19. Reaping the Fruits of the Past

**A/N:**

 **A Very Merry Christmas to All of You!**

 **Most of this chapter is a flashback and answers many of the questions you asked in the reviews to the previous one. More will be clarified in due time, please be patient and enjoy and don't forget that review!**

 **Thanks a ton for being fantastic readers.**

 **All characters, props and places mentioned here belong to JKR, no copyright infringement intended.**

* * *

 **Chapter 19: Reaping the Fruits of the Past**

On hindsight, Hermione always knew somewhere deep down that it was all a blissful dream, one that broke in the middle of the dark night and left one feeling lonelier than ever before.

She sat on the rug by the fire in the living area of her chambers. The large, airy room felt suffocating or maybe it was her heart that was squeezing painfully inside her chest? Quite possibly, it was both. Large volumes, quills and parchment lay scattered around her while she sat hunched as the fire crackled and danced merrily in the grate in stark contrast to her own emotions. There were no more tears left to shed, perhaps because her heart knew there was no longer a broad shoulder around to find solace on, no longer a warm chest to hold her in its secure embrace and drive her nightmares away. And that, it was her own doing.

She looked at the scattered scrolls and carefully pulled out one and unrolled it. Handwriting with larger letters than hers and a tad bit untidy too, looked up at her and she gently ran her fingers over the dried ink, smiling at the misspelt words and the memories of the day the three of them had laughed over this essay and she had kept it for her amusement after helping him out with her own notes. She didn't really think he was horrible in studies. It was just that the boys were too lazy to do tedious research work for the sake of class assignments.

It was a strange twist of fate how she had found comfort in two least likely people. And devoid of any family or people she earlier called her friends, she had realised how much she wished now that she would have been sorted into Gryffindor instead. Perhaps then she would have had these boys as her best friends since her first year? Maybe then she would not have been the way she was, not made mistakes she made now and most of all not pushed _him_ away so far that there seemed to be no way to go back, or call him back for that matter.

With a deep sigh and painfully dry eyes she summoned her pillow and blanket and curled down in front of the fire, wishing for the umpteenth time that she would be back in that warm, Gryffindor coloured four poster bed, enwrapped in his fragrance instead.

The weeks after Christmas would always be those special memories one held on to for life. In fact at present the future looked so terribly bleak that those six weeks would perhaps be the best one she would have in a long time to come.

She turned at the stone Pensive that sat in the far corner and beckoned her with its magic but she refuted its charm. It was much too painful to see his wispy, non material form, the one that could not be touched, not be pleaded with to listen to her. She ached for the real Ron, the one who lay in that familiar bed just beyond the wall yet so far, rock solid and warm and yet so full of hatred for her.

She curled inside the blanket instead, craving for a warmth that the fire or the quilt could never provide and surrendered to her thoughts that brought him to her, if only in her dreams.

 _ **Day after Christmas**_

 _She woke up with the cacophony of the birds and the soft murmur of a pair of voices. Still too drowsy to open her eyes, she held on to the heat of the covers and the whispers became clearer as her sleep faded between heartbeats._

" _Do you think we should wake her up?" asked one voice._

" _I don't know... Maybe we wait for a few more minutes till she wakes up by herself?" asked the other, more familiar one and she felt a strange sense of calm and yet jittery feeling wash over her at his voice. Her cheeks coloured of their own accord and the sleep dissolved faster as her ears seem to be more eager to hear him again._

" _Alright." Conceded the first voice and there was a soft woosh of someone sitting down on a mattress._

" _How are you feeling? Do you reckon you should see the nurse?" asked Harry again._

" _Nah I'm fine, still a little sore but nothing too terrible." She could almost see him shrug his shoulders and opened her eyes infinitesimally, adjusting them to the light._

" _I've been thinking Ron, I mean if she was so suspecious about the Order's intentions, how does she not suspect us of murdering her parents?"_

" _You don't really know of this Fiend Fire, do you mate?"_

 _There was a silence from the other end and Hermione struggled to control the pain that erupted at the mention of the curse._

" _It's not an Unforgivable perhaps because I have heard there are venomous plants that can only be destroyed using it. But it is a dark curse by nature and is not really used because once released it is very hard to control or put out. Use it and the Auror's will be at your doorstep, provide a very valid reason for casting it in front of the Wizegamont or be ready to be shipped to Azkaban. Well that is considering no one was injured in it. It's not really something our side uses, and for good reason. The effects are ghastly to say the least. And honestly if it was anyone but the Death Eaters in case of the Grangers, the Ministry would be quite eager to pack them off to Azkaban to show they are actually doing something worthwhile. Hence the crap about the kitchen fire burning down the mansion. "_

 _There was silence while she closed her eyes. He was right. It was a curse that had long fascinated her, not anymore though..._

" _Ron I think Dumbledore knows we have been taking her out." Said Harry after a while and she felt her heart rate speed up again, she was barely holding on for him to complete. "You know the way he appeared yesterday and literally took Malfoy away couldn't really be a coincidence." He reasoned._

 _Yes that indeed was strange and yet why would the Headmaster not prompt them for taking her out of the wards he had so painstakingly put up?_

 _Hermione considered getting up and putting her thoughts on the table but a small part of her heart wanted to stay hidden and hear what Ron had to say, if he would confide in Harry about what he thought about her now. It could not be clearer that he cared for her and, she glowed red at the thought, there was a dangerous amount of attraction from both sides as well. He truly was gentleman enough to know where to stop and not take advantage of her when he easily could have... She closed her eyes as her cheeks burnt. If anything it made him all the more appealing._

" _Well then I should be prepared for a reprimand for flaunting the rules or worse. I sure hope Mum doesn't send me another Howler though." He answered, "But you don't really suppose Dumbledore would do anything of the sort, right?"_

" _Yeah... I kind of felt like he knew what we were up to..."_

" _I have had that impression for some time now to be honest. He is not really a stranger to our rule breaking, is he? And last I checked he doesn't really seem mind that much either, does he?" he laughed and soon the two boys were rolling in laughter, trying hard to keep their voices low but failing miserably._

 _It was getting hard for Hermione to continue feigning sleep. Not that she found their rule breaking amusing or Dumbledore's marked fondness and leniency when it came to Potter and Weasley anything less than annoying. But she did find the sound of their laughter liberating. It had been a long time since she had laughed like this; in fact she couldn't even recall a single instance. Loud laughter was not really a common thing in her house hold or among the Slytherin's for that matter and when it did come, it was mostly targeted at someone in a jeering sort of way that made it sound rather cruel and not really heartfelt like now._

 _And most importantly she wanted to see his face, see those mesmerising eyes lit up with the laughter. She turned and removed the covers slowly and pushing herself up, looked around. Harry was half lying on the bed and Ron was sitting on the floor, bend double at his waist. His long legs were folded at the knees. At the sound of her movements they stopped abruptly and adjusting themselves, turned around. Her eyes automatically found his blue ones that still held the lingering traces of his laugh. The stubbled face looked light-hearted, carefree and amazingly adorable. She could hardly stop the smile that struggled to break free._

" _Good Morning..." she said softly, glancing from one boy to the other. "I'm sorry I-I took your bed." She told Ron, feeling extremely conscious of the blush that was rising up her cheeks._

" _It's okay, not a problem really..." he muttered somewhat consciously himself and ran his fingers through his hair messing them up further._

" _Ahem..."_

 _They turned around at Harry at the noise, Hermione feeling more embarrassed by the minute._

" _Ron and I were planning to take our brooms and ..."_

" _... Oh I'm sorry..." she cried softly. Of course she would have to go back to her chamber or they couldn't leave. "Ron if you..." she gestured at the wall and he picked his tall form up from the floor._

" _Well what do you say you wait for us and we can have breakfast together?" suggested Harry suddenly and she turned at him with a grateful smile._

" _I would really love that." She replied softly and turned at Ron for some sort of confirmation. His face was neutral, the traces of the laughter all wiped off and it hurt her a little till he spoke. "And may be later we can finish that homework you were pestering us about." He added softly._

 _.._

 _The next week was a pleasant blur, passing away much too quickly for her liking. They had frequent meals together although the two Gryffindors had to leave to eat in the Great Hall at least twice a day to avoid any suspicion. She hated those lonely meals and counted minutes till their return. She really loved spending time with the boys and realized she was growing fond of Harry as well although she felt much differently about the two._

 _Somewhere mid of the week their conversations drifted to their families and although it was still hurting, talking to them also had a kind of a therapeutic effect._

" _I am an only child and to be honest it was quite lonely. So I found friends in the books."_

" _Well my parents didn't really have a choice there." Muttered Harry with a sad laugh and as she looked into his eyes could almost see the pain similar to hers, though she had to admit he had it worse. She wanted to ask more, not as a noisy gossip seeker but as someone who knew what it felt like to miss their parents, and have no family._

" _How is your family like Ron?" she asked instead before noticing the flair up in his eyes. "I really want to know." She added honestly, "You are the only one amongst us who has... siblings. It must be nice."_

 _He watched her closely, perhaps looking for a deceit and after a while he turned away. "We are six brothers and we've a younger sister, Ginny."_

" _Wow, it must be..." she began but was cut off mid sentence by him._

" _Crowded?" he sneered in that familiar way that caused guilt and shame to flood up her veins._

" _No... Lively." She whispered softly meeting his eyes but unable to hide the hurt. He really didn't think she had changed much, did he? Ron looked away and an uncomfortable silence proceeded till Harry had the good sense to divert the topic elsewhere._

" _Ron is the youngest of the brothers. The eldest, Bill is a curse breaker with Gringotts, Charlie studies Dragons, Percy ..."_

" _... is a prat who works for the Ministry." Provided Ron before Harry continued._

" _Fred and George have their own joke shop." He finished and Hermione was sure she saw a glint of pride in Harry's eyes for his best mate although Ron himself was resolutely looking away._

" _Wow... that's impressive..." she replied truly stunned although Ron was still looking annoyed for some reason. "I remember Fred and George, that swamp they created last year was some great magic. And so were those fireworks although it was against the school rules really."_

 _Harry snickered._

" _Ginny wanted to stay back in Hogwarts for the holidays. Ron's Mum wasn't too eager." He provided a little dreamily._

" _Oh...why?"_

" _She thought the protection on the school would be low."_

" _And what about the two of you?" she asked again._

" _Actually she wanted all of us back at the Burrow..."_

" _...Burrow?"_

" _Ron's place, but we couldn't, you know..."_

" _Leave me behind... I get it." She smiled half heartedly. "I'm sorry..." she said softly as she turned towards the taller boy as he glanced up questioningly. "For being the reason you couldn't go back to your family during Christmas." She added. She really did feel bad for him._

" _It's a job." He replied casually with a hint of gruffness. Obviously he could not really believe that she thought any better of his family now than she did before. That hurt._

 _Surely she was a tad more than just a job for him now?_

 _His behaviour had really convinced her that it would be the end of their developing friendship but things turned for the better and she found herself spending the New Year Eve waiting for the midnight and celebrating with butterbeers with the boys. It was a little ill feeling with which she welcomed the reopening of the school which brought along Ginny, the rest of the Gryffindors and ... Lavender Brown forcing her to keep to her chambers again. But to their utter surprise, Harry found the entrance to her room from his side of the bed one day and after that the boys came in after the rest of their dorm-mates were off to bed. She looked forward to those hours the whole day._

But all good things come to an end and so did that phase.

 _..._

 _ **Two nights ago.**_

She was waiting for the boys for their late night chat. The scrolls of completed assignments lay on the table to be handed over to Ron and she sat with her legs up on the couch, something that would have given her mother a heart attack. She didn't bother anymore; it was way more cosy this way. She turned pages over pages, glancing frequently towards the two entrances. They were late. She wondered why and hoped that a blond haired, curvy someone was not the cause of Ron's delay. She hated that girl and felt bitter about Ron for it too, but what could she say? There was nothing between them that allowed her to question him for his dating choices, nothing apart from a maddening attraction and hopeless longing to have him as hers and hers alone.

Ron.

He baffled her. How could someone be so contrast of behaviours was beyond her understanding. After much thought that took hours and sometimes nights, she had concluded that behind that rowdy exterior lay the Ron she had seen that night at the Room of Requirements. And while his rough exterior aroused her body tremendously, her heart craved for that softness in his eyes. She smiled a little to herself. Someday perhaps he would get tired and leave Brown or she would move away and maybe, just maybe he would think of her more than a friend? She could see he was still guarded and despite all the fun times they had, he ensured to keep a distance from her- both physical and emotional.

She turned at the timepiece again and closed the book shut and placed it on the table.

 _What was taking them so long?_

She curled on the couch and stared at the door leading to Ron's door as she called it. She never knew when sleep claimed her.

...

She woke as rough hands grabbed her arms jerking her awake. The fire had burned down and so had the candles leaving the room in darkness except for the moonlight that streamed in through the glass window.

"Wha-" Her heart drummed madly in her chest.

"RON! MATE! –" _Ron and Harry! She cooled down immediately at their voices but why was he-_

"KEEP OUT OF THIS HARRY!" bellowed Ron in the darkness and she was pulled up on her legs, causing her to wobble to find her footing properly.

"YOU LITTLE PIECE OF –"

Lights filled in the room as someone, possibly Harry, lit the candles and she blinked furiously trying to adjust her vision and grasp the strange happenings.

"Ron?! What –" she stared in horror at that rage filled face, not even registering the pain he was causing on her upper arms with that vice grip.

"RON LEAVE HER!" yelled Harry and came forward trying to extricate Hermione from his clasp but failing as Ron was simply stronger.

"I SAID KEEP OUT OF THIS HARRY!" he barked at his best mate.

"LEAVE HER!"

"I WON'T TILL SHE ANSWERS ME! TELL ME GRANGER AND DON'T YOU LEAVE OUT ANY DETAILS. TELL ME WHAT EXACTLY I DID." He barked and then added in an even dangerous low whisper.  
"You know both these rooms are charmed to avoid anyone touching you against your wishes, right?"

She nodded fearfully, suddenly realizing with horror where this was going.

"Which means nothing, I mean NOTHING could have happened if you were not willing, am I correct?" he asked again and she nodded once more looking down in shame as tears pooled up in her eyes.

"And you told her I 'Molested' you." He gripped her harder and Harry too stunned to react, watched on. "What did I exactly do Hermione? What did you tell them? Did you tell them that I snogged you without your consent or perhaps I tried raping you? And when may I ask? Was it that morning in the infirmary when you seemed to be too willing to give yourself up? SPEAK DAMNIT!"

There was a bit of stunned silence that greeted that outburst as Harry stopped trying to set Hermione free and stared at her instead.

"W-What?" he asked looking between the pair as Ron continued to bore his eyes into hers. Hermione was shaking lightly now, with fear, guilt or shame, Harry couldn't say for sure.

"Why would Hermione do that?" he asked in a shocked whisper in the silence of the room.

"Ask her." Replied Ron as he gritted his teeth and releasing her from his grasp, pushed her back into the couch.

"Well played Granger, I really did not see that coming. You disgust me to no end." He spat and turning around, barged out.

She slid down from the couch on the floor, the shock, the guilt wrenched out in form of loud sobs.

"Why would you do that to him?"

She lifted her head up with difficulty to look at Harry who was glaring at her with deep loathing etched on his features. She used the centre table to help herself up. She had to explain, but what and how?

"Harry..." she beseeched.

"I really thought we were getting to know you..."

"I-It's not like you think..." she pleaded knowing well that nothing could sort this mess.

"Are you denying what he said?"

She bit her tongue. How could she explain that the girl who wrote that note was not her anymore, it was way before she knew Ron, the real one, way before she knew who she herself was? How could she explain that it was a mistake from a time when she viewed the world through a dark tinted glass?

"Tell me he is mistaken Hermione."

She couldn't lie. She wouldn't.

"I did write that note." She managed with difficulty looking down at her feet, "But believe me Harry that was a long time ago!" She managed to add but he had already left.

* * *

 ** _A/N: Well that had to come out._**

 ** _Please don't forget that review._**


	20. A Midnight Rendezvous

**A/N: First of all, I am really sorry for the previous chapter. I see a lot many of you were greatly disheartened by how downhill that went. But as I have said before, this story runs parallel to the sixth and the seventh book, and so far we are somewhere in the middle of February in their sixth year. It is not going to be a mushy story and as said before, there will definitely be lots of ups and downs in their lives. Unlike the series where Ron and Hermione had five years before it became a hormonal mess in their sixth year, here all that tension will be taking place in these two years, so you know how much of a roller-coaster emotional ride that will be. I will definitely not give you a horrid ending because, after all it is a love story so please don't worry about that.**

 **But yes, please be prepared for dark stuff, angst and lots of drama.**

 **This is a Christmas (maybe belated because I am not sure when it will be ready to post) present for all my lovely readers.**

 **All Characters and places mentioned here belong to JKR.**

* * *

 **Chapter 20: A Midnight Rendezvous**

Ron sat alone on the final steps, high up in the Astronomy Tower. The silence of the night did nothing to calm his insides that seem to be on fire like it had been for the past two days and two nights. He took in a deep, ragged breath, the chill of the air pricking his nostrils and lungs but it was still better than the way _she_ had hurt him, _again._

He had not seen her since that fateful night when he had overheard the Headmistress and if he had any say in the matter, he would never set eyes on her as long as he lived. It was a hard thing, to be betrayed over and over by that one person his heart had chosen to fall irrevocably in love with and maybe that was what made the pain all the more unbearable.

Sitting alone in the highest point in the school, he felt a strange mix of pity and hatred for himself. They were amidst a war, Harry was still struggling to retrieve that one memory from Slughorn as the threat of the Dark forces loomed stronger than ever and here he was stuck in a pathetic maze of love, betrayal and anger. He felt lonely and although it had looked appealing when he had broken up with Lavender some hours ago and specifically asked Harry to let him be, now he was not so sure he was cherishing the solitude. It wasn't like he wanted Lavender back, no that part was clear and surprisingly less messy than he had thought it would be. That was one baggage off his shoulder although he did feel a tad guilty. The way Lavender had taken it made things easy but all the more worse.

" _I always knew it was coming Ron." She had said with a sad little smile when he had told her that they were not really going anywhere with this 'relationship' of theirs._

" _You knew?" he asked a little taken aback._

" _Of course I did. It wasn't that hard to miss, the way you seemed to search for someone else when you opened your eyes after we snogged. The way you looked a little surprised and maybe a little disappointed that it was me..."_

" _Lav-"_

" _No Ron really... Why do you think I was so clingy? I knew I'd lose you, I didn't think it would be so soon though." She added wiping a tear off._

" _Then why did you put up with me?" he asked despite himself._

" _Because I like you, more than you know. There was also the factor that I didn't know who I was competing against. I don't know who has captured your heart, but whoever has done it has done a great job."_

" _Lavender" he stopped her because what she said hurt. "I am sorry."_

 _She smiled and then kissed him softly on the lips. "Bye Ron..."_

He hated that he had hurt her and hated that she had been right. And above all he hated Hermione Granger for everything else in between.

He could have taken _her_ charges as the first thing that came to his memory was the way he forced her at Grimmauld Place but then McGonagall had mentioned about the charm, the one that was apparently put up by the Headmaster himself.

" _If it was not for the charm that you placed Albus to keep anyone from touching her without her verbal or nonverbal consent, this would have been a serious case against Ronald for the rest of his life! We would never have proof that she was lying!"_

It was clear that the kiss was less forced than he had originally thought. She has simply played his guilt against him and she had done it again. What hurt was not that she could have potentially ruined his life but that she had gone so low, pretending to be friends and then backstabbed so brutally. And to think that he had not gone ahead for her silent offer the day at the infirmary because she had been grief-riddled. Hah!

He wanted to focus on other things, to forget _her_ but only if it was as easy. At least he had convinced Harry to cover for him about getting her assignments. He knew he would be questioned about it too. He was already waiting for an admonishment for not turning up at the Headmaster's office that fateful night. But he couldn't really have stayed, could he? They would never believe that he was not eavesdropping but merely waiting for the deputy Headmistress to leave before he knocked. In fact his ears had only picked up the conversation when he had heard _her_ name and his own- there definitely was no intention to overhear what he had. _And yet he had._ It was a blur from there really as he had stood thunderstruck for a moment before rushing down the spiral staircase and back to the Gryffindor Tower right into her Chamber.

He remembered her eyes precisely. Did not really need a confirmation from her, the truth was etched on her face. He shut his eyes tight and pressed his palms to them till her vision faded and all he could see was black. His eyes hurt and yet he held on.

"You are taking it harder than I thought you would."

He opened his eyes abruptly at the voice, his vision all blurry with the pain before the pristine white beard and spectacled blue eyes came into a rough focus.

"Professor?" he called surprised, his voice sounded hoarse and nothing like himself.

"This is my favourite place in the castle too. I often come here to clear my head." Said the old man as if it was a simple chat over tea and not a surprise midnight rendezvous between a student and the headmaster.

It surprised Ron to see him there. There had been no noise, not even the flapping of the long robes and yet Albus Dumbledore was indeed sitting next to him on the staircase.

"I understand you prefer some privacy but alas, not all our problems can be solved if we keep thinking it over and over, especially not when we have only partial information."

Ron wouldn't have bothered to hear the old man although a previous version of him would have been elated at the privilege of having his idol right next to him in a one to one conversation. Not tonight though. But as always the old man's words perked his curiosity.

"I don't really understand Sir." He replied.

"Well as I said, I don't really expect you to." Said the old man kindly but Ron looked away annoyed. If the professor thought that he would sit and listen to how big a fool he was, he was wrong. He had heard that enough, been made to feel idiotic enough.

"Well, I'm sorry but I think I'll leave." He replied and held on the railing to pick himself up.

"Oh! I didn't mean to insult your intelligence Ron, I am sorry if you felt that way."

He sat back. He was tired enough and could barely pull out energy to try and make sense of the verbal riddles. He looked back silently instead.

"I understand you have not been meeting Miss Granger for the past couple of days?"

So this was it, a different approach but a reprimand none the less.

"I am afraid Sir, I don't wish to do that duty anymore." He replied in a cold voice.

"May I know the reason?"

Ron contemplated his answer and then decided to put his cards on the table.

"I think you already know the reason Professor."

"Ah well, I would still like to hear it from you."

Alright so he was specifically required to admit that he was eavesdropping. He was already fucked up, how worse could it get?

"That night when I came down to see you as you had asked, I overheard Professor McGonagall telling you about the letter _she_ had sent, the one that accuses me of—of molesting her. I don't even know why you still want me to go back. I told you right in the beginning I couldn't do it. What have we achieved? Apart from her manipulating me to her heart's content and hurt-... Oh forget it!" He scowled and looked away from those piercing blue eyes that seemed to bore into his soul.

"Do you really feel that we have achieved nothing?"

He huffed knowing well that he was crossing the line; this was his headmaster after all. But he had long past the point of caring.

"You remember Pettigrew, Ron?" asked the headmaster suddenly and he turned back against himself.

"Yeah, I do. Why?"

"What do you think was his worst act of evil?" Ron had no clue where this was going.

"He betrayed his friends, Harry's parents."

"I believe you knew him as your pet."

"That's before I knew who he really was."

"And how did you feel when he turned into a man?"

"Betrayed and repulsed, especially to think I was caring for him all this time when he was the reason Harry has lost his parents."

"And you know he was the one who nursed Voldemort and performed the rituals that brought him back to his present form?"

He flinched at the name. "Yes."

"And you still consider the betrayal against James and Lily as his worst."

"That's because he was their friend at the time. What he did with You-Know–Who is evil and terrifying but he is a Death Eater anyway, I don't expect anything better of him."

"Exactly my boy, exactly." Beamed the old man and Ron looked on confused.

"Tell me Ron, how has this year been for you?" Dumbledore was back to his riddles. Ron decided with a sigh that he would indulge the old man. It was a respite to have crazy conversation even though they seemed to go nowhere just to forget his thoughts for a while.

"Crazy."

The old man smiled softly. "You have been busy."

"Yes I guess so."

"And what will you consider to be the best achievement this year so far?"

 _Best?_ He could easily think of the worst. He wracked his brains pushing aside the image of one particular face.

"It hasn't really been a great year but I guess winning that match for Gryffindor was good." He recalled.

"Ah! Yes, you played well. Anything special that happened just before or after that?"

Ron knew where this was going now. This was a clever way of making him admit that he was taking out Granger from her chamber against the set rules. But if they were not wrong, Dumbledore knew it already.

"I took her out." He said simply.

"Would you please explain?"

He let out a deep sigh. "She is really cunning, you know that Professor? And manipulative. She was spending a lot of time in that Pensive and when I told her that, she pretended to be all grief stricken. I knew she was up to something, especially when she showed the desire to be let out." He paused.

"Please carry on." asked the old man with a smile.

"I reckoned it would be safe to take her to the Room of Requirements, I knew she had a hidden agenda, had to know what it was. Days before the match, I took her out for the first time modifying the Room as the library."

"Did you find out what she wanted?" Not a question on the open defying of order. It surprised Ron giving him a strange feeling that these moves were Dumbledore's; the old man knew this would happen.

"Yes, I mean till recently I thought I did. She never believed that the Order told her the truth about her parents' death. She wanted to see the Mansion for herself, the Room fit her requirements perfectly. That morning, the day after Christmas when you came between Malfoy and Harry, the two of us were there having just seen the destroyed place for ourselves."

"Hmm." Sighed the old man. "I don't suppose it was a pretty sight for her or for you, for that matter. Please continue."

"I thought that would have changed her perception about right and wrong, seems it hasn't. To be honest, I am not so sure that it was her true agenda, I don't really know her, do I?" The conversation had gone back to _her_ again. He rubbed his palms on his cold, unshaved face.

The old man remained quiet before once again taking a path out of nowhere.

"Did anything happen after the match?" he asked and Ron had to wrack his brains for a while to realise what the headmaster was referring to.

"I don't remember Sir."

"Anything? A fight between the two of you perhaps?"

He thought hard. His memories were all a blur with the recent happenings. Wait! Memories! He had shown her the memory with Lavender.

"Yes." He answered not willing to disclose any further.

"And was she upset, with this fight?"

" _Pretended to be_ I am sure, yes."

"Do you think there was a possibility that she did not pretend but was actually hurt with whatever happened?"

"And what if she was?"

"Do you know when she sent the letter Ron?"

"No."

"You left my office before you heard the whole conversation. I had called you to discuss my plans about making her captivity rules a little less stringent. And Minerva was, let us say apprehensive, because of that same letter Ms. Granger had written to her in October. Yes my dear boy, you left before hearing that I was of the opinion that a lot would have changed after that, especially after Christmas between you three. "

"How do you know?" he asked like a curious child who had been caught being naughty.

"Being the Headmaster of a school full of teenagers is no easy job my dear boy. I need to have eyes all around the castle!" he replied with a twinkle of his eyes before they softened and filled with pride.

"It is a good development and the credit goes to you. You have truly proved that I was right about choosing you for this assignment. I do have a few tests to see if she has totally changed sides. But certain instances tell me that we are there already."

He let the words sink in before asking the question that was bothering him.

"How does it matter when she had sent the letter Professor, it was still a false allegation."

"I don't deny that it was very wrong and had the situations been different she would have served detentions all week for the whole of the year for defaming your name. But I am guessing what she is suffering now is a whole lot worse. We all need families and friends and Ms Granger seems to have lost both, again."

"If you expect me to forgive her, I am sorry I can't."

"I can't push you to forgive her, it's a personal thing after all but Harry won't be able to continue covering your duty forever. He really needs to focus on other things."

"I can't go back, not now, please."

"Take your time, but prepare yourself Ron. You can't run away. This friendship you three have formed is crucial for many things that are to come."

"You intend for us to continue doing this the next year as well?!"

"Next year? Well it's hard to say what next year will bring, but whatever it is will be tough and we will need as many friends as we can find."

They stayed quiet for some time as Ron digested all the new information as Dumbledore looked at the stars.

"It's time you go back to your dormitory and catch some sleep." Said the old man and rising up, left as soundlessly as he had come.

* * *

 _ **A/N: So there you are. I really feel that Dumbledore would use his strange, riddling ways to talk no matter if it is Harry or Ron. He would talk in clues and riddles and let the other person work out the answers for themselves. Please do let me know what you think of this chapter. I had initially planned to include some other things here but then I have dropped that idea. The next chapter will be something special. You can consider that part 2 of the Christmas present.**_

 _ **Oh and I always imagined that Dumbledore would have 'spies' all around the school, the portraits perhaps? After all they do see and answer questions, don't they? They would be familiar will all the sneaking around the students do, what do you think?**_

 _ **Merry Christmas everyone!**_


	21. Poisoned

**A/N:** Second part of the Christmas special (though this is not a happy chapter by any stretch of imagination.) The next one- Part 3 of the festive season present from my end will be.. well I'm not saying anything before hand. :)

Thanks to each one of you for appreciating the story and the last chapter.

Got to rush but I am waiting for that review.

Happy Reading!

 **All Characters, props and places mentioned here belong to JKR.**

* * *

 **Chapter 21: Poisoned**

Harry flipped through the Prince's potion book, squinting to figure out the numerous notes written between the margins. He still could not believe his luck for having found this book at the beginning of the year and how much it had taught him, not to mention how it had vastly helped in getting a fantastic reputation with his new Potion master. If only there was some way the book could help him to get the information Dumbledore wanted him to get from Slughorn! But that hope was getting feeble as the days passed. They were almost at the end of February and he could make out that the Headmaster was getting impatient like some kind of a clock was ticking away. Well he had tried hadn't he? He had stuck around after class, followed the Professor around to get a word but since the first time when he had mentioned 'Horcrux' after their antidote brewing assignment, the nutty old man had been giving him a wide berth.

He flipped the pages again. The common room was vacant except for him and even the fire in fireplace was beginning to dwindle now. Harry pulled out the map from his pocket, his eyes scanning it for a particular figure. Malfoy seemed to be in his dorm and he heaved a temporary sigh of relief. He was as close to finding out what the blonde was up to in the Room of Requirements as he was with Dumbledore's assignment. He scanned the map again for one more figure. Ron's footsteps were barely a corridor away from the portrait entrance following another pair. He closed the book and decided to wait up. Ron was making him worry. The redhead had cooled down to a certain extent in the past few days and had even gone back to Hermione's guard duties for the past two nights but that was more of a compulsion than anything else. Harry wondered if Dumbledore had specifically set their appointments in such a manner that Harry would not be able to fill in for Ron.

Hermione Granger was a different story.

He hated to admit that he had begun to genuinely see her as a friend before that one episode blew that everything up. Now-a-days she was quiet and withdrawn and hardly ever looked up more than once when he went in to get her assignments. And the way she lifted her eyes each time told him clearly that it was not him she was waiting for. In the initial days she had tried explaining her actions, told him that she had sent that letter ages ago, but he knew that from Ron already. He clearly remembered the way she had looked when Harry had told her that they knew that it wasn't a recent thing. But it didn't make her any less guilty because she would have literally massacred Ron's character if not for the headmaster's charms. Hermione had refrained from giving any excuses after that. But of late, Harry couldn't deny he felt a tiny bit of sympathy for her, she looked pale and undernourished. He wondered if he ought to tell Professor McGonagall about it. And yet, so far he had done nothing. It did seem like a betrayal itself to be concerned about the girl who had backstabbed his best mate, not once but twice.

Ron had begun to worry him. He was reckless, temperamental and furious most of the time. He had landed in detention for a week already. Snape had made a sneering comment about his abysmal wand work in Defence Against Dark Art for failing to manage a non-verbal spell. The next thing the professor knew, he had been thrown back by a very powerful shield charm without Ron having muttered the incantation aloud. It had earned Ron a rigorous detention with Flinch and a very loud applause from the rest of the Gryffindors. He hadn't cheered up a bit.

He stretched his cramped legs, with so many distractions he wondered how on earth he was suppose to concentrate on Voldemort. There was yet another thought that kept him busy and unlike others this was like a wisp of fresh air with something flowery. He closed his eyes and the image of long, silky red hair and a stunningly beautiful face materialized in front of his eyes... Ginny. He was doomed. Another image, a mad Ron erupted in front of his eyes and he sat up straight. There was no hope there. If the bloke got to know, he would surely use Harry as a punching bag, it might help the ginger release all the pent up frustration but would not bore well for Harry at all.

The portrait door opened and two arguing Gryffindor prefects walked in.

"You should have handed it over to McGonagall, Ron!" screamed Parvati.

"Why on earth should I have done that? This is fine mead! Brewed by the famous Glilletwinder family!"

"What's wrong?" asked Harry as he dropped the potion book on the table and came forward.

"Ron is being a prat! He confiscated a bottle of mead from two Hufflepuff fifth years and now he is refusing to hand it over to McGonagall." provided Parvati shooting a dirty look at Ron.

"Why would fifth years have mead with them and how did they get it?" inquired Harry. It was strange to get anything past the rigorous screenings now-a-days.

"One of them, Henry Wincostin's Uncle runs the brewery. He said he got it during Christmas for Dumbledore." She provided.

"For Dumbledore?!"

"Come on mate! Henry and Lisa were caught snogging and maybe more in an empty classroom last week. They have detentions till the end of the term, this is just to coax the headmaster to get their punishments reduced." Provided Ron and pulled away the bottle beyond Parvati's reach. "I am not giving it back!" he told her. "Merlin knows I need a drink."

"You should have thought of it before ditching Lavender!"

Ron and Harry looked at the girl in shock and then Ron howled in laughter. Harry decided it was very unlike Ron, not that he was being such a prat but the way the laugh sounded hoarse and a little sad.

"I am not drinking for that Parvati, although yes I am sorry for the way I treated your friend." He said after a while.

Parvati was reeling off to go on another tirade but Harry stopped her in time. "Let it rest Parvati. I promise I'll make him hand it over to a teacher. I'll take care of this, you go ahead." He said sincerely. She looked at him sternly for a minute and then with a small nod turned around and left for the girl's dormitory.

Harry turned around to find Ron at the verge of unscrewing the bottle.

"Hold on mate." He said pulling the bottle away.

"Wait?! Come on Harry! I'm sure Dumbledore doesn't need mead."

"Nor do you."

"Hah!" he replied sarcastically.

"Let me drink to celebrate then. Tomorrow is my ruddy birthday, remember?" he said sourly as he flopped down on the couch.

"Happy Birthday Ron but it's still a no."

"What will you do with it then? Give it to McGonagall? I doubt she is of the kind who appreciates good liquor" he asked.

Harry thought for a while. He wasn't sure about McGonagall but he knew one particular professor who did. He felt rotten stooping so low as to use a confiscated article to bribe a teacher, but these were desperate times.

"No not her but Slughorn." He said with a gleam in his eyes and it took a minute before Ron caught on.

"No way! That's wicked, I like it!" he grinned, the first one in many days.

"What say we do it first thing tomorrow?"

"No better day than a birthday for some celebration!"

...

The next morning Harry woke up early to find a pile of presents at the foot of Ron's bed. He pulled out his own, a broom servicing kit and added it to the pile before pulling off the curtains on his friend's bed.

"Rise and shine birthday boy!" he said hitting Ron with a pillow.

"Ouch!" groaned the other boy and sat up.

"Happy Birthday Ron! Man you are seventeen!"

"Blimey! Yes I am, wow many presents this year." He pulled out a small package from the top which was from his parents. "Wow! It's a watch and a brand new one at that!" he said cheerfully as Harry looked away embarrassed.

"Open this." He said pointing at his own gift and Ron tore off the wrapper much less enthusiastically than he did every year. Harry assumed that it had a lot to do with all that he had gone through in the past few months.

"Nice mate! Thanks!" he said as he took in the box.

"Won't you open the rest?" asked Harry as the taller boy lifted himself up.

"I will. Let's try and get your assignment done first, shall we?" he replied.

The two boys dressed promptly and snuggling the bottle under Ron's shirt, left the common room to head towards Slughorn's quarters.

"Do you think he will be suspicious?" asked Ron in a whisper when they were a little distance away.

"We will just have to use a lot of flattery and maybe get him drunk a little with this very same mead." Replied Harry thoughtfully and Ron made a gagging sound as he pulled out the bottle.

"Shush now!" called the raven haired boy and after a deep breath, knocked purposefully. A small window opened and a sleepy form of the professor peeped out.

"Harry? It's early!" asked the man groggily.

"We know Sir and we apologise but my friend Ron here apprehended something from the students during patrol last night and we thought we should bring it to you." He said in a sweet voice ignoring a snot from Ron which the ginger tried to pass on as a cough.

"Oh! Alright come on in then." Replied the Potion master and opened the door a little grudgingly.

"What is it?" he asked a little impatiently and Ron handed him the bottle, the expression on the man's face changed instantly and didn't go amiss to either of them.

"Oh My! My! A fine Glilletwinder Mead! Where did you get this Rupert?"

Ron looked annoyed at the wrong name but a poke from Harry and he adjusted his expression. "Two fifth years were sneaking it. Said they wanted to give it to Professor Dumbeldor but I am sure that's just a cock and bull story they made up."

"Well I am sure! I am sure!" replied the older man holding the bottle adoringly.

"Well... we thought we will bring it to you Professor and since it's Ron's birthday today we thought it will be a nice gift from us to you." managed Harry. _My! The levels he was stooping to get that memory!_

 _Overkill Mate!_ Thought Ron trying furiously to control the laughter.

"Oh then we must celebrate!" suggested the professor eagerly and soon three goblets were floating towards them. He uncorked and poured the liquid into three goblets although one was filled more generously. He handed the other two to the boys.

"To Rob's health." He said lifting his glass and the boys joined him.

"Ron." corrected Harry automatically.

"Oh I'm sorry! Ron!" said the old man and brought the goblet to his lips but stopped abruptly as Ron crashed on the floor with a loud thud at that very moment, the goblet spilling the remaining liquid on the carpet, foam coming out of his mouth.

...

Hermione sat on the couch waiting for him. She had lost all hope to ever see him again but he had come... although his expression was a dead giveaway that he would be anywhere than in her presence, but still... Dumping the scrolls unceremoniously on the table, he had stayed only long enough to pick up her completed assignments. There were no more memories to fill the Pensive but that wasn't new really. She had not received the memories from the time Harry had taken over the duty. She realised it was a safety measure to keep her away from flicking into Potter's brains. She hadn't complained, not for that or anything else for that matter. She knew she deserved every bit of the loneliness. She had not spoken in days and often wondered how long she would survive before she went insane. The boys never spoke to her and still she sat waiting just to see Ron once. And that was what she was doing now. As always, she expected someone to come before dinner time. Even the meal times had been reduced to a means of measuring the time of the day as she ate very little, just enough to sustain herself. These times reminded her so much of the ones in the Gryffindor common room that she often choked with the onslaught of grief that fought their way out.

It was still daylight and she concentrated on the door that was hidden behind Ron's bed.

She had perhaps dozed off when a small sound woke her up. She opened her eyes hurriedly to see that flash of red, the only bit of colour in her otherwise grey, mundane life. But there was no red today but black.

"Where is Ron?" she asked before she could stop herself and Harry looked up from the table to meet her eyes. Something in those green orbs stopped her heart for a moment before she found her voice again.

"Where is Ron, Harry?" she asked urgently as she lifted herself up from the couch. He did not bother to answer but turned away. She was sure his face looked ashen.

"HARRY JAMES POTTER! ANSWER ME! WHERE IS RON?" she screamed as some kind of dread crept in her heart. _Harry wouldn't be here collecting your assignments if something was that wrong. Ron is fine! Ron is fine!_

She glared at him as he paused and then turned around.

"What do you care Hermione?" he asked maliciously but she could still see a lingering trace of fear and helplessness.

"Where is Ron?" she asked again in a voice that didn't seem to be hers. Harry took in her form for a long time and then heaving a sigh, dropped the scrolls on the couch before running his hand through his messy black hair.

"Ron got poisoned. He is still unconscious... since morning."

Hermione was sure her heart had stopped. _No! Not Ron!_

Before Harry knew what was happening he felt a blur pass him and reach the small corridor leading out to Ron's side.

"LET ME GO! PLEASE!" she yelled banging hard on the door that was only visible from this side. He walked quickly to her while she continued her assault on the enchanted wood.

"Let me out! Please! Please!" she sobbed dropping down on the floor and felt two hands gently lift her up and guide her to the seating area.

"Please Harry please... I have to see Ron!" she pleaded through her tears.

"Why Hermione? Haven't you done enough to him already?" he asked irritated. He hated seeing her like this, wanted to believe her too but this girl was a wonderful actress when she wanted to be. How would he know this wasn't an act?

She sobbed harder. "Please Harry just once..."

"I don't think it is a good idea." He replied flatly and she snapped up looking like an injured lioness.

"WHY?" she hissed.

"Give me one good reason why I should let you see him. It's not like you care. You have proved that enough already haven't you?"

"WHAT DO YOU KNOW IF I CARE ABOUT HIM OR NOT POTTER?" she yelled through her tears.

"You broke his heart last year for some silly revenge, framed him for a molestation case that could have seriously jeopardized his life and you say you care? Do you have the faintest idea what you have put him through all this time? Do you know the kind of risk he took by taking you out? And is this how you show you care?" he fumed.

She sobbed harder and curled into a ball and although he had no clue what he was expecting, he stood waiting for her answer.

"I-I know w-what I did and n-no one regrets it m-more than I d-do." She hiccupped after a long time.

He looked away.

"I-I know you won't believe me H-Harry b-but that was a d-different me, t-the one who thought she was k-kept as a captive while her ... her f-family was out there. The o-one drunk on the notion of wealth and name and p-power. That is n-not me anymore..."

He stayed quiet and she continued urgently as if it was crucial for her to get all that she had to say out of her system.

"I never appreciated what the Order was doing for me till I saw the M-Mansion... and R-Ron... I can't ever repay h-him for saving my life in the Room of Requirements that night, _for saving me_ , for doing everything he did after how I treated him at the end of last year..." she paused and hiccupped back more sobs before continuing again.

"I wrote that letter to h-hurt him like I was hurting because I felt he intentionally put a memory of him snogging Lavender in there for me to see when... when he knew I liked him... I couldn't take the rejection... I am not saying I did the correct thing or making up excuses for my actions but ... I would have never even thought of something like this if I knew back then how my future would change... If I had known the real Ron as I do now...I-I don't have anyone else anymore Harry... It's just the two of you... You don't know how I hate myself for writing that note, I hate myself more than you hate me or R-Ron does for that matter... But believe me I do care about the two of you... I care about Ron... more than I can ever express..."

"He is better than before. Madam Pomfery says he is recovering." He wasn't sure why he was telling her this but somehow he wanted to believe her, and if he kept his anger aside, the timeline of her actions did make a bit of sense. He stood wondering what he was supposed to do. Did the Headmaster know this would happen? Was this the reason why he had been specifically asked to get her assignments now while his best mate lay unconscious in the hospital bed? Just to get the news to her? He looked at the sobbing Hermione.

"I have to go now." He said picking up the scrolls. "I-I'll let you know when he comes round." He added as an afterthought.

"I want to see him once... please Harry?" she pleaded again.

"I can't take you out Hermione, only Ron can and this is seriously out of my hands." He replied in a softer tone.

"Can the Headmaster help?"

He thought of the genius wizard with those twinkling blue eyes. _Is this what the Headmaster had planned all along when he had given Ron the assignment? Had he known that Hermione would need someone to hold on to after losing her family and that was where Ron had come in? How much does the old man know?_

"I am guessing he might be able to help." He replied thoughtfully.

"Will you wait for a minute till I write him a note, please?" she added wiping her tear stricken face and he nodded despite himself.

She penned a note quickly and handed it to him.

"You may read it if you please." She said guiltily and Harry left the room after taking it from her without commenting on her suggestion.

...

It was the middle of the night when the door to her chamber was opened again. She sat up straight from her position on the rug in front of the fire to turn around at the lone figure and a small shriek escaped her lips as another tall figure materialised in front of her eyes out of thin air.

"Professor Dumbledore!" she breathed softly and stood up.

"We are sorry to have come calling at this odd hour, Miss Granger." said the old man kindly.

There was so much she wanted to inquire of him, she asked the first one on her lips.

"Is he alright?"

Behind that enormous amount of facial hair she thought she saw a bit of smile before those piercing blue eyes looked into hers with a kindness she hadn't seen in days.

"He is recovering. It was a deadly poison. Good thing Harry remembered to use a Bezoar."

She looked gratefully at Harry. "Good thing the Potion master had one of those." He said.

"May I..." she began.

"See him? Yes I suppose you may."

She could feel the tears of gratitude prickle her eyes. "Thank you..." she muttered softly.

Dumbledore turned towards Harry. "I suggest you use the cloak and... " He turned at her again, "Ron has been put in a special ward with high security because we still don't know who got the poisoned mead and for whom. He might be an accidental victim but his condition is weak and we are not taking chances. Poppy has ensured us he should be awake in another four hours once the antidotes finish flushing the poison from his body. His parents and siblings will be there to see him once he wakes up."

"I will leave before that." She replied in a quiet voice.

"Harry will bring you back in exactly one hour."

"Thank you Professor."

"You are welcome my dear." He replied with a twinkle and gestured towards Harry who pulled out the cloak from his robes and dropped it over the two of them. One flick and Dumbledore vanished and she left her chambers once more after a long time... but without Ron this time.

* * *

 _ **A/N:**_ **Thanks a lot for reading. Please drop a review if possible.**


	22. Between Sleep and Wakefulness

**A/N:** This is a very quick update because even I can't wait to share this chapter with you all. Thanks a ton for those fabulous reviews.

 **All Characters of this story belong to JKR.**

* * *

 **Chapter 22: Between Sleep and Wakefulness**

She walked mechanically alongside her two companions, one visible, the other hidden under the invisibility cloak with her. She had never felt so anxious in her entire life, not even during her last trip to the Room of Requirements with Ron. Perhaps because she was clinging on to a hope at that time, perhaps because that girl was a different person all together, someone who did not really know the pain of losing her dear ones. Now she did.

The irony here was that the person she was scared to lose was not even hers to begin with and with a piercing pain in her chest she realised that there was little chance now that he would ever be. It did not change what she felt for him however. It was a riot of emotions really, the desire, the love, the agony, the hopelessness and above all the guilt and self loathing.

Room after room they crossed with her mind focused on nothing but the tall wooden doors behind which her heart lay. She could still not believe she was being allowed to see him although it was a terrifying proposition as well. Hermione had no intention of staying back till Ron woke up. He would be too weak after the poisoning as it is. Last thing she wanted was to disturb him with her presence or her sight for that matter. She struggled to bite back the sob at the thought. This was not how she wanted her life to be...

Finally they reached the hospital ward and Dumbledore pushed open the doors while Harry guided her inside. The room was vacant of patients except for a sole bed that had curtains pulled around it. The place reminded her vividly of another similar room with two injured occupants treating each other. She remembered the delicate touches very clearly and those passionate blue eyes that she could have drown in. Struggling to hold back her tears a word escaped from her lips in a whisper.

" _Ron..."_

She was too anguished herself to notice the slight twitching of her companion, her sole concentration on the person who lay beyond those curtains.

"You can remove the cloak now Harry." Instructed the Headmaster, he seemed to have locked the door. Hermione waited no longer than a minute to rush forward and Harry followed her a minute later as she stood as if stunned near the small opening that let into Ron's bed. It hardly looked any different but as Dumbledore had said earlier the place within the shades was magically sealed to stop anyone with malicious intentions to enter. He paused perhaps wondering if Hermione would be thrown off by the invisible shields, but she passed easily and sat down on the wooden chair placed next to the bed. She seemed to be in a haze or perhaps had forgotten there were others around as she looked unblinkingly at the person on the bed, her hand an inch away from Ron's. He felt strangely uncomfortable like he was witnessing something very personal and averted his eyes to look at Ron instead.

Ron was still lying as he had been since morning- rock still and silent. If Harry hadn't known better he would say Ron was asleep. But this is not how Ron slept, straight on his back with his hands on his sides. Most often than not, Ron slept on his stomach or his sides, his arms askew, mouth slightly open. Very often his long legs would dangle down on the floor and he frequently complained that the beds in the school were way too small. There was no expression of pain on his features but he looked paler. His lips that had turned blue with the poison were slowly regaining some colour.

"Harry?" called the Headmaster softly and he turned back having forgotten that the old wizard was still with them.

"Yes Sir?"

"I think it will be wise for you to take Miss Granger back in some time. If you wish you may come down and visit Ron once Molly and Arthur arrive."

His answer was cut short by the approaching of the nurse who did a double take on finding so many visitors suddenly, especially the young woman who was sitting silently by the patient's bedside.

"Miss Granger?" she whispered and turned at the tall Professor questioningly.

"She wanted to see Mr Weasley" he answered and a small non verbal communication passed between the two colleagues.

"I was here to administer the next dose of antidote to Mr. Weasley but it seems I have another patient at hand now." She muttered to herself and both Harry and Dumbledore looked at her surprised.

"Oh come on!" she exclaimed in a hushed voice. "Surely you can see Miss Granger is not well herself! She has lost weight tremendously and looks pale and malnourished! I won't be surprised if she is suffering from depression too! It is certainly a possibility with her situation." Harry looked away guiltily.

"What do you suggest Poppy?"

"I would suggest not holding up the poor girl like a prisoner, but you won't really listen to me, will you? But she will stay here till I nurse her back to good health. You can put up wards here or do as you please." She replied with ultimate finality.

"Very well." Said the headmaster and moved sideways. Soon a second bed was placed next to Ron's with similar curtains around it. As Harry watched the Headmaster silently waving his wand he knew more stringent spells were being put around. A small opening joined Ron's and Hermione's wards and Harry was now very sure that for some strange reason Dumbledore was playing a very active part in the lives of the two young adults, almost guiding them towards some sort of a destiny. What he could not understand however was, _Why?_

...

 _He felt like he was in some kind of a limbo between sleep and wakefulness. Images and words flicked in and out but it was much too difficult to fathom if it was a dream or reality. How long had he been stuck in this state was hard to say, maybe minutes or perhaps hours. Where was he anyway? He tried feeling his surrounding by touch and with a horror realised that he could feel nothing at all. Was he lying down, standing or falling from a great height? He could not tell for sure. There was no gushing of air so perhaps he was not falling. He tried opening his eyes but they seemed to have been shut with magic or maybe his body was not cooperating with his brain. Yes that could be the case. He couldn't feel his legs or arms or fingers, no he definitely couldn't. Was he breathing? Well he must be for he wasn't dead was he? But then who knew? Perhaps this is how being dead felt. He tried moving again and while it wasn't physically exhausting an effort, it was extremely disheartening. His throat felt choked and parched. Could someone give him a sip of water? He wanted to call out but while his brain formed the words over and over again, no sound escaped from his lips. He was alive wasn't he? Yes he could surely hear voices, disjointed and unclear but they were voices. So that meant he was not really dead was he? Where was he?_

 _Someone, bless the soul, placed a small cup at his lips and liquid flowed into his parched throat. It tasted strange but he was glad for it. Wait he could figure out the taste! That had to mean he was still feeling, he was alive! He strained his ears this time as words became sentences. He could roughly identify those voices like he had head them somewhere but the faces linked to those voices were still blank. As he became a little more aware he could make out the words better. They were talking in hushed voices in a place which was otherwise silent... infirmary... A pleasurable sensation ran down his spine... Yes he was in the hospital wing... Faces were beginning to take shape although he could still not open his eyes or move his limbs... Faces... jet black hair... glasses... Harry! His heart leaped in joy... And now another deeper voice... lots of white and piercing blue eyes, Dumbledore... he felt exhilarated but hold on there was one more, a softer voice, a woman... Madam Pomfrey perhaps? Yes that would make sense... He concentrated on the sentences now..._

"You must go back to your dorm now Harry." That was definitely Dumbledore.

"But Professor..." there was a pregnant pause and Ron struggled unsuccessfully to open his eyes.

"You heard Madam Pomfrey, she will be here." Dumbledore's voice was calm and kind.

"Yes Sir." Replied his best mate after a while, a little crest fallen if he could correctly identify the tone.

"He is safe. You can be back in four hours. He should be awake by then." It was the nurse's voice but hold on... _four hours?!_ He was stuck in this state for four bloody hours? He wanted to scream out for Harry to stay, to talk to him if only to keep his mind from going insane stuck in this unending loop of visions that made no sense. But there was no more talk only silence. Harry had left...

"You too my dear. Your potion will be ready in some time. Why don't you lie down till then?" He strained his ears. _Who was the nurse talking to?_

"Please Madam Pomfrey, just a while longer?" pleaded a soft voice that caused a hundred emotions to come crashing. _Hermione?_

"Alright." conceded the nurse after a pause. "But you will head straight to bed after you take your potion."

"Yes..."

There seemed to be a slight shuffle and he could make out that his senses were sharper, more aware. He could feel the soft mattress he was lying on. He tried unsuccessfully to roll on his side but his muscles were still not cooperating. It was difficult to say if the nurse had left, though considering the silence of his surrounding he assumed that she had. _What time was it?_ He could faintly remember that it was morning when he had left with Harry for Slughorn's office. But if Dumbledore was telling Harry to go to bed that meant... it must be night. _Merlin, did that mean he was here the whole bloody day?!_

There was a shuffle and a delicate touch on his left palm. A small and soft hand covered his own while a whimper sounded from somewhere very close.

"I-I am so terribly sorry Ron..." His breath hitched and he tried pointlessly to move his hand away, but as his rotten luck would have it, he could do nothing except hear her and feel the rage building through him.

 _What were they thinking leaving her here? How could Harry agree to this?_

"I know you hate me... and you have more than enough reasons to do so but please, please forgive me..." she whispered in a choked voice. He wanted to get away, his idiotic heart would melt at her voice and she would choose a different route to hurt him again.

"I know you can't hear me... you don't know I am here... but I don't know if I'll ever get a chance to tell you when you are awake... Or if I will ever have the courage to face you... I didn't ... I... I am sorry..." she sobbed softly again. He could feel her hair brush against his sides and even felt a few drops of tears on his hands. Quite possibly she was sitting next to the bed and had her head in the little space on the bed next to him.

"I saw you k-kissing Brown in the Pensive and I hated it... I just wanted to hurt you as I was hurting... wanted to hurt you for the way you shoved me aside in the library... I have never learnt how it feels not to get what I wish for... till now..." She paused for a breath and Ron lay still, forgetting that he couldn't move even if he wanted to.

"I had thought I would go back to my parents and forget everything, this captivity, the solitude... you..." she laughed a little sadly. "Delusional I was, I thought I was manipulating you to help me find out about the Order's lies... turns out my whole life was a lie, my beliefs, my faith... everything. It took a second and I lost everything, my parents, my dreams, my future... But then I found you... Not the Ron Weasley I thought you were but the real you. I... I never thought you'll risk your life for me, for someone who had betrayed you, played with your emotions and was doing it again. You knew it, didn't you Ron? And still you saved me, healed me, kept me safe. The weeks we three spent in the Gryffindor Tower together was like fresh air. It made me question all I knew, all I was taught, made me feel like there was hope again.

I loved how brave the two of you were to get into this fight. I am not. I want to avenge my parents but I am not sure I have the courage to do so. I wish I did though... I wish but I am not strong enough or else I would have told you both about the letter earlier... I thought of confessing, believe me I did but I was scared of losing you both, losing you... and look what happened..." she went silent and he realized that perhaps she had run out of words. He could still feel her hands. It was a long while or maybe not so long before another pair of footsteps approached.

"Miss Granger?" called the nurse. He strained his ears but could hear nothing more.

"Go off to sleep now." called the nurse kindly. _Wait! Wasn't she going to go back to her chamber? He could not find a single good reason why Hermione would be kept out of her wards...Did that mean he was still dreaming? Was all of this was a figment of his imagination, some kind of wishful thinking?_

Her hands left his and there was a small scrapping of chair and the voices seemed to move away further. His heart groaned painfully at her words and he fought to remind himself that he was still very angry with her. Some more shuffling and voices became murmur he could not really understand.

...

She waited till she was in the bed.

"Madam Pomfrey?"

"Yes dear?"

"Please don't tell him I was here..."

"Oh?"

"He might not like it...And please don't tell him about me staying in this ward either."

There was silence for a while before the nurse spoke up.

"He will wake up in a few hours and be able to see the next ward Miss Granger."

"But you won't be letting him off bed for some days, will you?"

"No."

"Then it will be all fine. Not like he will get to know, not like I will have visitors."

"Very well." replied the nurse a little sadly.

"Please tell Harry to do the same, will you?"

"I will, now you go off to sleep."

"Good night Madam Pomfrey."

"Good night dear..."

...

When he woke up finally, he was more than glad to find that he could open his eyes and work his limbs again. His parents, the twins, Harry and Ginny surrounded the bed. His Mum cried and Dad patted his head lovingly while the twins made jokes about how he had spend the entire of his seventeenth birthday sleeping. He enjoyed the laughter and the noises till Madam Pomfrey came back and send everyone off and gave him yet another potion which put him off to a dreamless sleep.

The next couple of days he flicked in and out of slumber as various potions were administered round the clock. He was still weak and often dozed off mid conversation when Harry or Ginny came down. During those small hours when he was awake he gazed at the ward next to him but hidden by a partition of green hospital curtains. It was so painfully silent that he often wondered if he had dreamt the whole episode. He had asked the nurse and Harry both of whom had vigorously confirmed that it was an empty ward. Maybe he had actually dreamt it all then? Maybe she had asked the two of them to keep it from him? Ron wasn't sure what to believe, his brain was addled with the potions anyway. Deciding to confront Harry once he came back in the evening, he tried unsuccessfully to keep his eyes from drooping shut once more, but not for long.

...

She tiptoed out of her ward. From the regular pattern of noises, she now knew the cycle of his potions as well as the times when they would cause him to fall asleep. She used those hours to sneak out and sit next to him watching him sleep peacefully. Harry visited her too and although he was still a little cold it was way better than before.

Hermione looked lovingly at Ron, her hands itching to move up and touch the fringe that covered his forehead. She loved the freckles that were spread across his long nose, loved the way he smiled in his sleep, definitely the effect of a dream. She wondered what it was that he saw and if by any chance she was a part of it but shook her head sadly at her wishful thinking. Nothing about her would make him smile, she had seen to that herself.

Madam Pomfrey's potions had brought some colour back to her cheeks, she felt better and more optimistic. Perhaps the witch was giving her some feel good potions? But what affected her best was Ron, knowing that she could see him so often, could hold his hand when he was fast asleep without anyone knowing. She loved how her hand seemed to fit perfectly in his larger ones and she craved to snuggle into his bed, be wrapped in his warmth...

But today was the last day, tomorrow she would be back in her chamber again, away from him. She wrapped her finger between his, rubbing his knuckles with her thumb trying to overcome the pain at the thought of staying away from him.

"I'll spend the night here today, once you fall asleep, once Madam Pomfrey leaves for the night..." she said softly.

There was no telling when she would see him again. Once he recovered, they would fall back into the same routine where he would come in for a minute or two and with that scowl permanently fixed on his face. She would memorise every bit of the night like she did with her books and hold it in her memory for ever.

She felt him twitch and quickly but carefully removed his hands from his and left the ward as quietly as she had come.

...

It was way past midnight and the nurse had left after administering the last potions for the night to both her patients.

Hermione waited for a while longer till even the slightest noise from the other end ceased. Then, when she was sure he had slept, she crept outside and walked towards his bed. Feeling a little brave or perhaps desperate, she sat on the bed next to him rather than the chair and placed her hand in his open ones. She wrapped her fingers into his and looked at the joined hands, although to be honest, only hers were holding him. How much she wanted to bury herself in that chest... She held him harder fighting the desire to curl next to him. The pain in her heart was almost like a physical ache to which there was no cure.

Maybe the whole idea of sitting on the bed was wrong. She should have taken the chair like always. With a sigh she got up and left his hands... only they were still encased in his, caught in a strong grip. It took her all the strength to move her eyes away from their hands to his face, her heart was thundering madly in her chest and she was trembling a little too. She lifted her eyes fearfully to look at that handsome face...

Ron Weasley was very much awake and those stunning blue eyes were looking straight at her.

* * *

 **A/N: Oh Please do review!**


	23. Entangled

**A/N:** After that cliffy I left you all with my comments can seriously wait till the end of the chapter.

 **Fair warning:** This gets pretty intense and slight a bit dark at a point.

 **All Characters mentioned here belong to JKR.**

* * *

 **Chapter 23: Entangled**

She was caught.

Her heart was beating so fast that she wondered how it had not leaped out of her body by now. Hermione knew she looked fearful and that is exactly how she felt. Ever since she had been rescued by the Order she had seen Ron lose his temper with her multiple times and although she would never admit it openly, his rage intimidated her terribly. Like it was doing now.

Gulping down she risked looking at his face while her hand was still clutched in his stronger one. It was difficult to make out all the different emotions that were playing on his features- surprise, curiosity and a great bit of controlled, predatory fury.

"Sit." He called roughly with a tug at her hand and she flopped on the bed a little less gracefully than she would have liked. He shifted himself in a sitting position, resting his back on the cushions with her next to him but facing away. Letting go of her hand, he pulled out his wand from underneath his pillow and cast a silencing charm around them and with another swish, the curtain to the entrance of his ward flew down and remained stuck to the base. Her eyes followed the action and when he placed the wand back in its place, she forced herself to turn around. There was no telling what he was thinking. A part of her wanted to run away, another wanted to pull out the wand that she had foolishly left behind at her bedside table. But a major chunk of her heart wanted to be here, to deal with whatever was coming her way.

"Why are you here?" His voice was so very controlled that it gave her jitters, like he was holding on to the last vestiges of control before all hell broke loose.

Licking her dry lips and with downcast, guilty eyes she pulled in all her strength to speak. "I am ... I just wanted to ... check on you."

"Why? To see if the poison finished me off or not?" he asked maliciously and despite all her terror, she jerked her head up, tears of frustration and anger pooling quickly in her eyes.

"HOW COULD YOU EVEN SAY THAT?!" she spat.

"Don't you dare raise your voice Granger!" he growled breathing deeply. "What games are you playing this time? Why are you out of your ward?"

"Dumbledore let me out because I – I wanted to see you and no matter what-whatever you think, I was genuinely worried!" she fumed keeping her voice low. The way his cold eyes were boring into her was making her feel scared and extremely teary at the same time.

"And you have been here all this while." It wasn't a question.

"Yes..." she replied anyways.

He let out a low, mirthless chuckle. "What a woman you are! You made my best mate and the school nurse lie to me for two straight days!"

"I... I knew you would be angry." She was still looking down. A few locks of hair had come loose from her braid and she hoped her face was well hidden from him.

"Angry isn't a word big enough." She did not comment because there really was no answer.

"Look at me." He ordered but she continued to look down, biting her lips to cut the whimpers. She had always known this would happen if he got to know about her presence and was not sure that she was strong enough to survive a direct confrontation. But what hurt was the way he looked at her, not just the loathing but a great amount of pain which she had given him, over and over again.

"Look. At. Me. Hermione." He breathed angrier still but she defied him yet again.

With a huff he placed his hands on her shoulders, turning her towards him forcefully causing her to lift her head and meet his eyes in surprise. She loved his eyes, she really did but at this point she cursed her treacherous body because of the way it reacted on finding his eyes on her, hated the fire that burned at the places he touched but most of all, she was scared crazy at their heated proximity.

Somehow passion seemed to have the capacity to overpower fear.

"I have been wondering how that charm did not trigger if you hated me so much." His voice was low and husky and all she could do to keep calm was concentrate on her breathing and his still angry eyes as those lips of his moved barely inches away from her own.

"Is it some kind of a secret fantasy of yours Granger? One in which a princess like you has an illicit affair with a lowly peasant boy like me? Is that what all this is about?" She was sure she had lost her voice and stared at him instead, very aware that confusion and terror would be visible in her eyes. All that the blue orbs held were some sort of feral hunger although they never moved below her face.

"Don't you think it is strange that while you loath me so much, your body does not abhor my touch, on the contrary it seems to relish it." She could feel his eyes softening as if surprised with his own proclamation and a gasp escaped her lips when she felt a strong arm wrap around her waist pulling her flush against his hard torso while the fingers of his other hand tangled themselves in her hair, just at the base of her head, tilting her face up slightly towards his unshaven one.

"That is why Dumbledore's charms did not trigger an alarm, isn't it? ...You liked it when I kissed you forcefully, didn't you? ANSWER ME!" he growled again.

"Yes..." she managed in a whisper. She wondered why she wasn't as scared as she ought to be. Maybe because she trusted him despite all the rage he was spilling, maybe because she was getting extremely aroused by his aggression, most likely it was a bit of both. Her brain tried telling her that it was crazy but her body was getting much too heated to listen to any logic.

"And yet you went ahead and said that I abused you sexually..." he muttered, his blue orbs boring into her brown ones. "I'm sure those charms are placed here as well, but they won't work, do you know why?" Hermione could not have answered even if she wanted to but Ron continued anyway.

"Because they will come into effect only if you deny my advances, verbally or otherwise and something tells me that you will surrender willingly, at least your body will." She lowered her eyes in embarrassment feeling the blood rush to her cheeks. _Was it so very obvious?_

"Look at me." He hissed and she did as asked this time.

"Give me one fucking good reason Hermione as to why I shouldn't prove your allegations true and take you by force, right here on this very bed? Tell me why I shouldn't fuck you senseless using your physical arousal to my advantage, irrespective of how much your heart doesn't want me? Tell me why I shouldn't leave you emotionally scarred and bleeding like you have done to me time and again?" the anger in his voice increasing with every word he spoke.

 _Because you are not me Ron._ _You won't force yourself on me because your guilt will rival my trauma... You won't do it, that's not who you are, I know..._

The words were on her lips but her throat was all choked up, she opened her lips to speak but closed them after all that escaped was a whimper. She concentrated on their bodies that were pressed together from waist up and suddenly sense began to kick in. He was right. She desperately wanted this and honestly her body was already out of control, but her heart was still complaining.

 _Not this way. Not when he is someone else's boyfriend, not while he is so mad, not when it will be nothing more than a revenge shag for him._

She could not even look at him so she closed her eyes feeling a couple of tears slide down. She made a split second decision. She would give him anything he wanted, they would not be making love and it would be just a shag for him perhaps but she would let him have his revenge, maybe it would help him heal? Hadn't she already given him this very same choice weeks ago in another infirmary? What difference would it make really?

'Nothing perhaps' answered the logical part of her brain, 'Except for screwing up this relationship for ever and throwing him into a downward spiral of guilt when he recovers from the rage.'

She was holding on that breath, feeling him pulling her closer, tugging her hair slightly that was more pleasurable than painful, angling her face for better access... She could feel his heavy breathing on her skin and waited on holding her breath...

...

He wanted to scare her, he wanted to hurt her, he wanted to shag her senseless into the mattress till she was all sore from his assault, wanted to see how far he could go before she actually wanted him to stop. He wanted a release from his boiling fury that ran up and down his veins at her sight, at her betrayal. He couldn't remember being so angry with someone ever in his life. How could she blame him for something like a sexual abuse when he had been driving himself insane just to keep his hands off her?! How could she insult his love so much? Degrade him to that level? He knew she had not betrayed the friendship they had formed since Christmas and it was done before she knew the truth but still... _HOW COULD SHE?_

He looked into that face he loved so madly. Her eyes were closed and a steady stream of tears had been flowing down but she had not attempted to move away. Merlin she was scared of him alright... It was evident on her features. Did she not know that he could never ever force anyone into sex? Least of all her! What the fucking hell had she done to him?

Taking a deep breath he shoved her away and turned around himself. The force of the push caused her to leave the bed and stagger on the floor before she found her footing.

"Go." He ordered without looking at her. Removing the covers, he placed his foot down on the floor and buried his face in his hands. He could roughly hear footsteps and before long his palms were being pulled away by a soft pair of hands. She came closer and settling herself between his thighs, pulled his face to bury into her, their height difference and his position causing him to find his face pressed just below her breast. Too far gone to care, he wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her closer while she placed her hands on his shoulder, her fingers running though his hair soothingly.

He remained that way, breathing in her scent while tears ran down his long nose. It was quite a while before he removed his hand slightly and guided her to sit next to him.

"Bloody hell woman... Why Hermione? Why do you turn me into this monster? Why do you make me feel things I shouldn't, make me say and do things I should be ashamed of? Why do you make me feel so evil, why do you make me hate myself?" He asked hoarsely looking at her although she continued to look at their hands which had ended up entwined somehow.

"You are not evil Ron, not at all." She began softly and met his eyes with a strange sort of softness in her eyes. "We all have light and darkness inside us. Depends on us what we choose. You have had plenty of chances to... do everything that you have said and not just today... you are right... the charms might not have triggered at all... But you chose not to walk down that path. That needs courage. I know sorry isn't big enough a word but I really am sorry for what I did... not just with the letter but also last year... No one deserves to be betrayed like that..."

"You have no clue what thoughts were running in my brain till even a while back." He responded in a quiet, anguished voice.

"You wouldn't act on it Ron, not like this. You are angry but still that is not who you are..." she added in a quieter whisper.

"Hermione please don't start again. I just don't understand you at all. If you know me that much how could you... Look, I am in no state to play these mind games anymore. There is too much in life already. Harry needs me, I need to focus." He removed his hands from hers and ran his fingers through his hair in frustration.

"I am not playing anymore games, I swear I am not... I was wrong on so many counts... about you, your friendship with Harry, about life in general...You know, it's not you but Harry- even with everything that he is, he is also very lucky to have shared that compartment with you on that first day. He is very lucky to have a friend like you who stood by him through everything that he has gone through and everything that future holds for him."

"Anyone would have done it." He shrugged.

"I don't see anyone else Ron... Yes there are other members of the Order and the teachers and Aurors perhaps but you have literally been his shadow from day one. I don't see anyone else who has done it."

"Hermione you really don't need to resort to flattery." Despite how low he was still feeling, he could feel his ears growing red at her words.

She looked hurt. "I'm just stating my observation."

"Why are you here?" he asked diverting the topic.

"Madam Pomfrey made me stay." He looked at her closely. Now that his anger had subsided considerably he could figure out that she looked paler than she did when they were spending time together. There were still traces of dark circles around her eyes and she looked like she had lost a bit of weight too. He remembered her words which he had heard but thought he had dreamt. Suddenly he could see the broken down girl he had picked up from the snow covered grounds outside her burnt down home.

"I'm sorry... about your parents and the way I behaved now..."

"It's not really your fault. We started on a wrong foot. I have wished so many times that I had known the two of you earlier. I so wish I had another chance..." she murmured.

"Well you have now, begin again. Work with the Order to avenge your parents. They deserve that don't they?"

"I... I want to, but I am scared..."

"Aren't we all scared? Well maybe not Dumbledore, or Moody or Harry... well you get the gist... but many of us are. That doesn't stop us from trying."

"Can I ask for something Ron?"

He chuckled sadly. "What do I have that you'd want Hermione? But okay go ahead."

"Can't ... we be friends again? You, me and Harry? Please Ron? Give me just once chance?"

"Friendships are based on trust Hermione. I don't know if I can ever trust you again." His brutal honesty hurt and she looked away to compose herself.

"You just told me to start again, join the fight. What good will it do for me to do that when there is nothing left in my life to fight for?" she asked after a while.

"Is avenging your parents not enough?"

"It won't bring them back. Even after everything, even if we win my life will still be lonely. I hate the solitude, the prisoner kind of life I have. At times I hate it that the Order saved me. What was the point really? They could have just let me die."

"DON'T SAY THAT!" he admonished "I mean it's cowardly to say that." He added quickly.

She laughed sadly and both of them remained quiet for a long time, each lost in their own thoughts.

"It will take time." He said after a long time and she looked up to see he was looking fixedly on the floor. "Even if we put all this aside and... and become friends...It will take me a long time to trust you again." He added almost in a whisper.

She smiled a genuine smile in weeks. "I can live with that hope Ron."

"But if you break my trust this time, I'll kill you."

"I won't give you the chance."

* * *

 **A/N:** Okay so that is it.

 **Thank you all for those fantastic reviews and for following and adding this story to your favourites.** It really makes my day to see your comments especially when some of you who are not Ron supporters or Romione fans tell me that they are enjoying this story.

 **Please do let me know what you think of this chapter.** Did I go a little overboard? Or was I able to keep them in character? Wish you all a VERY HAPPY NEW YEAR in Advance!

Lots Love!


	24. Building by Pieces

**A/N** : Apologies for the delay my dear readers. Sorry was too hung up on the holiday season high.

Without much ado here is the new chapter. Thanks to each one of you who review and follow this story. The credit to this story coming out the way it is goes to YOU ALL for all the support and motivation I get from you all.

And yes a big thanks to Chemrunner57 for sending me a PM and pushing me to post this today.

 **All Characters, places and props mentioned here belong to JKR. The plot is mine.**

* * *

 **Chapter 24: Building by Pieces**

Harry arrived at the hospital wing in the early hours on his way to the Quidditch pitch. He pushed the doors open as quietly as possible so as not to wake up a certain red haired someone and walked in. His basic plan was to see Hermione and tell her that he was to take her back to her chambers in the middle of the day when the rest of the Gryffindors would be in their classes. This was the perfect time to visit her as she was a very early riser which Ron was most certainly not. However it was quite a shock for him to find that his best mate was not only wide awake but by the look of it had been so for some time now. With his back resting against the headboard, Ron was being forced to take a potion that did not look inviting in the least.

"Hey mate!" called Ron seeing Harry near the entrance to his ward but not before he had swallowed the potion with a grimace.

"Oh! Hey Ron! Wow you are up early!" muttered Harry in an off handed sort of way. "Well I thought I'll just take a look at you before I leave for practice." He covered up quickly or so he thought, glancing once at the figure of the retreating nurse whom he wished a good morning before she left them alone.

Ron looked at him intently for a minute. "You are here to see her, aren't you?"

Flabbergasted Harry opened and closed his mouth a few times before shaking his head in resignation and slopped down on the bed next to Ron.

"I- well yeah ..."

"When were you going to tell me Harry?" It wasn't very difficult to figure out the hurt behind the words and he felt guilt wash over him although Harry had been convincing himself forever that he had kept the secret with Ron's best interest in heart.

"I did want to tell you but figured that ..."

"... I'll be angry. Yes I've heard that one before." Ron finished for him.

"How did you know?" he asked, looking closely at his mate's every reaction to the news, a tad bit uneasy in the absence of the flair up he was expecting.

"Caught her red handed last night." Harry's first reaction would have been to rush to the adjoining ward and check on Hermione but he held his space perhaps because Ron's strange demure was making him very curious.

"Well... You-" he began but was cut off mid sentence once again.

"You should have told me."

He looked at his best mate feeling extremely guilty. "I know." He murmured. "I am sorry mate, I really am." He replied softly but was caught surprised by the next sentence, although in all honesty he had asked himself the same thing many times in the past couple of days.

"Do you trust her?"

He met Ron's eyes and then glancing over at the entrance of the adjoining ward he pulled out his wand and cast a Muffiliato around them.

"I guess I do a little, yes." He stated looking at his best mate who seemed to be in serious contemplation himself.

"Why?" Ron asked softly. Unlike what Harry had expected it wasn't a challenge against his opinion, but an honest inquiry. He heaved a sigh and ran his fingers through his ever messy hair.

"First of all she would not have been able to enter these wards if she had any dark intentions, Dumbledore sets the wards that way and second... " he paused wondering if he should even voice what he really felt.

"Harry?" called Ron breaking his musings.

"She did look pretty desperate to see you when I told her first Ron..." He said remembering the way she had literally screamed to be allowed out.

An unspoken conversation happened between the boys as their eyes met marking this as a topic that was something was not be mentioned or even acknowledged in the future.

"So Dumbledore is sure now that she is on our side?"

"I guess he is, but I don't reckon I can fully guess what he actually thinks." Harry replied eagerly. He had been dying to discuss it with Ron but had been unable to broach the subject before. "He said the charms on these wards would restrict anyone who was aligned with the dark side from entering."

"Bloody brilliant... Why couldn't he cast the same charm on the castle? We would keep out most of the Sytherins that way and good riddance it would be!"

"I wish I knew! Asked him the same too. He said ' _No charm on the school can be set to prevent the students from entering the castle. Certain areas can be made off limit if deemed necessary by the teachers though.'_ "

"Hah! So it means even if he knows there are people who sympathise with You-know-who's plans, they can come in if they are students?! Mental I'm telling you."

Harry snickered at Ron's expression. It seriously was a crazy logic.

"He said he believed her." Muttered Ron almost in a whisper a while later and Harry had to wrack his brains for a minute before he realised who Ron was talking about.

"He said that?"

"Yeah... That night when he met me in the Astronomy Tower." He paused a minute at the memory of what had lead him there but shook it off with lesser effort than he thought would have been necessary. "Dumbledore said that he had some tests for her, to check her change of alliance, I mean. Perhaps this was one? But then it can't be... how would he know she would want to see me?"

Ron spoke on as if to himself and Harry realised they were treading dangerous waters again. The tension between the two had always been evident but somehow they seemed to have come to some kind of a resolution. What he wondered however was how the two would now pretend normalcy when the feelings were so out in the open. He contemplated telling his best mate that he was completely positive that the Headmaster not only knew that Hermione would visit Ron but he was also playing some kind of a matchmaker here. There was no telling what had made Dumbledore assume that the two would fit each other. As much as Harry could tell it was a volatile combination, all passion and anger and a whole lot of terribly disguised sexual tension. And why on earth was the old man interested in the love life of two teenagers when they were fighting the worst threat to wizard kind was anybody's guess.

"I don't really know mate. But at least now we know that she is not allied with the Death Eaters anymore." he said finally.

"I wonder what other tests he has for her?" mused Ron.

"Hold on! May be that is why he has asked me to take her to his office tonight!" exclaimed Harry. "And I was thinking perhaps it was about the Apparation classes!"

"Apparation?! Wow! When were you going to tell me about that?" exclaimed Ron all excited.

"Well I missed didn't I? We were just told yesterday. McGonagall said someone from the ministry is going to come down for it. It starts next week."

"Blimey! I really hope they let me off by then, can't wait to get rid of these foul potions, as if getting poisoned wasn't enough." He grumbled.

"Oh I'm sure you'll be out by next week Ron." said Harry confidently. "You look way better already."

"How's practice?" asked Ron and Harry got him up to date about the infuriating sessions. Much to his astonishment and slight annoyance, Ron looked way too happy to hear that the practice sessions had been lousy. He assumed Ron was happy that Cormac MacLaggen who was replacing him as a Keeper was messing it all up.

"Harry?"

The boys looked up to find Hermione standing near the opening that led from Ron's ward to hers.

"I thought I heard your voice once." She asked and Harry ended the Muffiliato he had cast. Quite obviously she hadn't heard any of the conversation except for the initial words.

"Seems you two are busy. No problem." She turned but was stopped by none other than Ron leaving Harry startled.

"Harry actually came down to see you. Stopped here because I was awake." He replied in a tone that suggested that he was trying his best to behave normally. Harry couldn't help admire this strange streak of maturity in him. It was slowly becoming evident that for some unfathomable reasons Dumbledore was actually encouraging the friendship between the three. And in such a case it would be best for him to keep the interactions away from the complicated happenings of the past between the two unmentioned.

She came closer and took her seat in the empty chair and looked up expectantly at him.

"I have been asked to take you back around eleven, while the rest are at classes." He told her and thought he noticed a flicker of disappointment at the news before she nodded in understanding.

"Alright."

"I was telling Ron about the upcoming Apparition sessions." He added. That cheered her up.

"Sixth year! Of course! I absolutely forgot about that!" she squeaked happily as she looked between the two. "Wow I wonder how they will manage it because you can't apparate inside Hogwarts."

Her eagerness seemed to be seeping in to the two boys as well.

"May be they'll do it in the grounds?" suggested Ron and Harry nodded.

She rolled her eyes so incredulously that Ron decided was a little cute rather than haughty "Haven't you both ever read Hogwarts a History? You can't Apparate anywhere inside the boundaries of the school!"

"Maybe they'll take us to Hogsmead then?" suggested Harry.

"In these times? I doubt mate." Ron shook his head in disagreement.

"I agree." intoned Hermione.

"Harry has gone for side along apparition though." Provided Ron

"And I don't really prefer it to be honest." He replied.

"Neither do I." agreed Hermione shaking her head. "Father has taken me a couple of times too. It's not exactly pleasant. But he did say that once you know how to do it yourself and get used to it, it's not half bad." She added before a thought seemed to occur to her which caused the previous excitement to fall right off her face. "But I won't know, will I? It's not likely that I will be allowed to take the classes." She said in a sad voice.

"Well maybe you will. Dumbledore has called you in his office tonight. Maybe they would have worked out something." Suggested Harry.

"Apparitions are monitored by the Ministry Harry. For all they know, I am dead." She replied with a sad smile.

"Let's wait and see. Okay?" Suggested Ron and they agreed.

"What all have I missed in class Harry?" she inquired and Harry began giving her a brief up ignoring Ron's groan.

"And Snape is still drilling us mad with the non-verbals since most of the class hasn't managed it." He concluded. Personally he too was finding it difficult to master.

"Bloody hell! That reminds me I have to do my detentions with him after I get out of this." groaned Ron looking at Harry and glanced once at Hermione but stopped to stare instead. She had gone deathly pale and was watching the boys with her eyes wide, mouth agape. Noticing Ron's surprised expression, Harry turned at her too and the boys shared a concerned look between them before Harry called her out.

"Hermione? What happened?"

"P-Professor S-Snape!" The two boys shared a confused look.

"What about him?"

"H-He works for the D-Dark L-Lord." She muttered fearfully. "He k-knows I am a-alive! Which m-means the D-Dark Lord knows too!" she turned towards Ron fearfully. Ron noticed that she appeared to be shivering slightly.

"He is a spy for Dumbledore." He told her.

"No! He is a spy for the Dark L-Lord!" she cried in anguish. "I-I don't know why I never thought of it earlier! He knows I am alive!"

"He is Dumbledore's spy Hermione. Voldemort thinks Snape is his man but he is actually with the Order." said Harry to pacify her, ignoring her sharp intake of breath at the use of the forbidden name. But his own nagging doubts about the ex-Potion's master's true loyalty found their way into his tone.

"What if he is not Harry?" Questioned Ron with his brows furrowed and his own concerns deepened further.

"In that case it will compromise most of the security arrangement's of the Order." He replied gravely noticing Hermione growing paler by the second.

"What will we do?" whispered Hermione in a shaky voice breaking the silence that descended after Harry's proclamation.

"Look, you are safe as long as you are in Hogwarts and as long as Dumbledore is with us. Don't forget Harry is You-know-who's biggest target but he is safe here. As long as Dumbledore is around you both can't be touched." Said Ron fiercely.

"And no matter how loony that old man seems to be, I trust him." He declared and Harry felt that his best mate was not talking just about Snape and in a way, was convincing not only the two of them but himself as well.

...

Hermione sat inside the curious place that was Dumbledore's office ignoring the several ex-headmasters and headmistresses who whispered among themselves from their portraits. Harry had seen her off right outside the very door that stood behind her, telling her that he had been told to return in an hour to take her back.

The headmaster had curiously excused himself after offering her a seat. It was the first time she had noticed his sickly right hand and had let out a very undignified gasp, feeling terribly embarrassed and apologizing profusely for it later. It looked almost like the part had died and she couldn't help being curious about the cause. Controlling her natural and often excessive curious nature like she had been told to do umpteen times during her growing up years she wondered instead on how she had missed it the other night when he had come down to her chambers. But then she had hardly noticed anything that day from the moment when Harry had told her about Ron's poisoning.

A blush crept up her cheeks remembering the events of the night before and she admonished herself furiously for her brain's sense of timing. She would have to keep her emotions in check and concentrate on being a friend first, proving to both the boys that she was worth their trust. She knew Ron was trying to be normal, most likely because he was as embarrassed as she was about all the words that had been spoken the previous night. It was a praiseworthy effort but she couldn't help wonder how long they would be able to keep the attraction under wraps now that it was almost in the open.

A small cough broke her train of thought and she looked up to find the headmaster seated in front of her, his hands folded under his chin as if in prayer, those kind, blue orbs which was reminding her of another pair of eyes, was looking so deeply into her own as if searching her soul for some answers.

"How have you been Miss Granger?" he asked with a small smile lingering on his wizened face.

"Much better Sir, thank you for asking." She replied politely.

"Poppy was right, you did need some care. I'm glad she did a great job. But if I am not wrong I should thank someone else for this pleasant change too."

She blushed crimson at his words and looked at her hands on her lap.

"I'm sorry." He said softly causing her to look up in surprise. "I'm sorry for the prisoner like arrangements my dear. I do hope that you'll understand that this old man only had your best intensions at heart."

"Please Sir. I am extremely grateful for all that you have done for me. Had it not been for you I would have perished in the fire too." She replied softly, forcing the image of her destroyed mansion away from her eyes.

"I'm sorry we could not save your parents."

"I'm not sure if they would have taken kindly to the Order's presence Professor." She replied with a sad smile. How mistaken her father had been about this man!

He nodded grimly in agreement and spoke after a small pause.

"You must be wondering why I have requested your presence here." The portraits were all silent and she realised they were as keen to know as she was. " There are some things I wish to discuss but first I need to know your opinions on a few things." She looked on curiously.

"I am sorry some of these questions might not be very pleasant but alas! Only you can provide me with these answers."

"Do you truly believe the Order's intentions or do you still have doubts? You might have, in which case I am truly the best person whom you can demand answers of."

"No Professor." She replied in a small voice. "I believe you saved me from a terrible fate. What I don't understand is why you would go to these lengths to keep me safe. I am the daughter of the people who vehemently supported the Dark Lord after all."

"Ah... Well you see, unlike Voldemort we truly believe that every life is worth saving irrespective of it's origin. Well not every, if you know what I mean but yes, everyone deserves a chance."

She nodded half-heartedly and the elderly professor chuckled softly.

"You don't believe me Miss Granger. Perhaps you thing I have ulterior motives?"

She looked uneasy but eventually gave in to her instincts. " _Is that all, Professor?_ I mean I am not denying what you've said but the Order has, _you_ have really gone to great lengths to protect me and also facilitate my education. I would not have been surprised if I had been kept in a safe house if my protection was the only concern. I am extremely grateful but what I can't fathom is _Why?_ "

The headmaster laughed loudly this time and she wondered what had she said that was so funny.

"Your brain is really an asset Miss Granger. Yes there is a reason why I have ensured you continue with your education and we'll get there but first I have some more questions."

"Do you think Harry stands a change against the D-Dark Lord?" she asked before she could stop herself.

"Do _you_ think he does, Miss Granger?"

"I don't know..." she replied truthfully "but I do hope he does. I hope he is able to finish that-that monster!" she exclaimed as tears sprung up in her eyes remembering all that she had lost. The professor allowed her to compose herself and passed her a goblet of water before he spoke.

"Harry has a seemingly impossible goal and to reach there to he will need help." She noticed that the lively demure had left the old man and the one who sat in front of her was not the slightly amusing headmaster but a wizard of such great strength and wisdom that power seemed to radiate from him.

"Miss Granger, do you have any idea what Voldemort wanted from you?"

"No." She replied in awe forgetting to squirm at the mention of the name. Somehow in Dumbledore's presence the Dark Lord's name did not sound as terrifying, for some strange reason he seemed to emit hope and faith which she readily soaked in. In his presence, it was as if even the seemingly impossible task of ending this terror reign seemed possible.

"He wanted _you_ Miss Granger."

She squirmed at the horrifying prospect and the Headmaster continued. "He wanted _you_ to be the first of the next generation of Death Eaters, the ones who would replace his present followers when time came. He hoped _you_ , with your exceptional intelligence and strong magic would be his most devoted lieutenant when time came, willing to carry out the evilest of all evil deeds, loyal to the core and deadly."

Hermione felt like a thousand invisible snakes were crawling up her body pouring their poison in her veins. She felt dirty and awfully horrified. The blue orbs were looking intensely at her over those half moon spectacles and as the impact of the headmaster's words washed over her, images after images ran through her brain, her parents, the loving times at the mansion, her father's promise that the new order would bring the wizards to rule over the muggles and her feeling ecstatic on the thought that she would be allowed to venture out more freely without the threat of muggles. More images poured in increasing the throbbing of her already panic stricken heart, the fearful faces of her parents during their last meal, the image of the cursed and burnt down mansion and last but not least Ron. _Ron_ as he guarded her against the onslaught of the willow, _Ron_ as he guided her broken form out of the snow covered land, _Ron_ as he held her close in his arms in her chamber, _Ron and Harry_ as the three of them spent their days laughing and chatting in the Griffindor Tower. She concentrated on that one image where she was wrapped in his arms in her chamber and he was muttering soothing words and breathed in deeply, finding the calm returning again and she was able to focus back on those piercing blue eyes.

"He must be insane to think I'll be a part of his monstrosity." She replied in a tone which to her own surprise was way calmer than she was feeling at the moment.

She felt a smile break out on the old man's lips and he looked once again like the lovable, old, sweet addicted Headmaster the Slytherins always made fun of.

"Can I expect you to help Harry when the time comes? I assure you, if you are unwilling to do so even then, the Order will look after your safety."

She thought of Ron and the bleak chance of a future where things could be better. It was her only hope. And knowing Ron, he would be where Harry was, fighting till the end of his life if it came to that. And in that moment Hermione knew what she wanted to, what she _had to_ do.

"You want me to assist Harry and Ron to bring him down, don't you Sir?"

"Yes Miss Granger. Harry could do with some help from your exceptional brilliance."

"Will they trust me, Professor?"

"You have to build that trust yourself my dear."

"Do _you_ believe me?"

"I think I do."

"Miss Granger?"

"Yes Sir?"

"I have to warn you that the future will be very tough. Especially for you because where Harry or Ron don't have a different choice, _you do_. This path is tougher than the other. Your easy way out will be literally the death blow for not just Ron and Harry but a thousand others who are fighting for their freedom."

She paled at the image of a dead Ron and shook away the image vigorously. "I won't deviate, Sir. That path holds nothing that I want anymore."

"Good." He smiled.

"And yes, you will take your apparition lessons with me. Harry will inform you the date and time for it."

She felt exceedingly cheerful before another thought crossed her mind. "How will I apply for exams Sir?"

"Well let's say it's far more important for you to learn and know that you can do it rather than receiving a pass mark in your exams in this case. Harry will be here any minute, anything else?"

She remembered something suddenly. "Sir Professor S-Snape knows about me!" she said although for some strange reason she felt less scared now than she had felt before.

"Your secret is safe. Rest assured."

"But Sir-"

"Harry is here, off you go."

She realised she had been dismissed and with a small thanks, walked away and opening the door, actually found Harry standing outside it.

* * *

 _ **A/N:**_ **First one crucial clarification:**

I don't personally feel the Slytherins are all evil, but Ron did so. The dialogues depict the thought process of the character rather than mine.

To answer **Zalini's** concern, yes it will be way awkward going back to being friends but I simply enjoy putting these in the craziest of situations.

Thanks once more to each of you for your reviews.

My responses to the guest reviews are here. Rest of you will find them in your inbox.

 **rhrfan:** Thanks and sorry I can't answer that rest part. Just remember that I **love** RHr okay?

 **guest:** Thank you so much. It really is a pleasure sharing my stories with you all. Such great feedback really makes me want to write better.

 **guest:** Wish you a Very Happy New Year too. I hope you liked this chapter as well.


	25. A Sleepless Night

**A/N:** Another quick update. This was originally planned as a part of the previous chapter but that got way too long.

Enjoy and please don't forget to drop a review.

 **All characters mentioned here belong to JKR.**

* * *

 **Chapter 25: A Sleepless Night**

She had a hundred questions to ask him. They were all bombarding her brain currently and berating her for not speaking when she had the chance. But then the headmaster had dismissed her so suddenly! How on earth had that hour passed so fast? Would she get another chance to find answers that only the old man seemed to have? Could she ask him during the Apparition lessons perhaps? Or would he concentrate only on the lesson, and dismiss her yet again? Where would she find her answers then? Maybe she could ask Harry? Would he know? Was she even allowed to confide in the boys?

" _You want me to assist Harry and Ron to bring him down, don't you Sir?"_

" _Yes, Miss Granger. Harry could do with some help from your exceptional brilliance."_

" _Will they trust me, Professor?"_

" _You have to build that trust by yourself, my dear."_

" _Do you believe me?"_

" _I think I do."_

Did that mean she could trust the boys with this horrifying secret? Would they believe that she had no intentions of becoming the next Bellatrix Lestrange or would it intensify the doubt they already had and shatter any chance of a friendship forever? Will they be as repulsed by her as she felt for herself?

"Harry I need to go back to Dumbledore's office, now!" she said suddenly, stopping and tugging on his arm. In the darkness and hidden under the invisibility cloak, she could not make out his features but assumed that he would have been taken by surprise.

"Now?" he asked perplexed.

"Yes now! Come on, please let's hurry." To her relief he obliged without any further questions and the two half ran half jogged up back on the same way they had just come from. She was panting slightly as she knocked on the knocker and waited, and waited.

When at least ten minutes passed without any sound from the other end, Harry tugged on her arm gently.

"Let's go back, Hermione."

"Can we wait a little longer please?" she pleaded.

"I don't have a problem with that, Hermione. But I don't suppose the Headmaster will be available no matter how long we wait," he reasoned.

She agreed half-heartedly, and once again they began trudging along the dark corridors back to the Gryffindor Tower. It was much too late already and without further ado, Harry left her alone in her Chamber to get his much-needed sleep.

Once she had changed and settled down, she reflected back on everything that had happened since morning. It had been a good start to the day, and the only regret was that she was back in her chambers. She could hardly wait for Ron to get discharged. She was also keen to share the happenings of the meeting with them.

But her doubts lingered somewhere in the peripheries of her thoughts. What if they did not believe her? It was not as if she had earned their trust. She had barely reached a point where all of them were trying their level best to reach a sense of normalcy and Ron was trying the hardest. She was no fool. The issues were way too complicated to have got sorted by a single outburst. She knew he was trying to make up for his behaviour the previous night, trying to hide his guilt with an over-enthusiastic attempt at friendship.

She rolled over to the other side and clutched the blanket tightly. Hermione did not wish to spend the night going over Dumbledore's words. But no matter how much she tried his words and his piercing blue eyes crept back into her thoughts. It freaked her out and made her feel dirty. How had the Dark Lord even assumed that she would be willing to side with her parent's murderers? How had he assumed that she would be willing to lead her life following his orders, killing, maiming and torturing the others for fun? How had he assumed that she was so evil within?

 _Once, you did find his power fascinating Hermione._

She hated that voice, the one that spoke her heart and brought out the darkest of her thoughts to the fore. Yes, she did. She indeed found his power and his magic fascinating. But that was months ago, wasn't it? In a different lifetime where power and blood purity made sense. She might not have thought of murdering people herself, however, the news of the ongoing killings had not disturbed her as they should have. They seemed so much a part of life, a small fragment of news that made no difference, like the first time she had heard the screams of a man in the dungeons. A long lost memory surfaced, and she could almost see a younger version of herself walking down the parlour, asking her Father about the screaming.

"Nothing child. Just a servant being punished for failing his duties." He had replied casually as he continued to study the paper-works.

"Isn't it hurting him?" she had asked.

"Perhaps it is. But he deserves it. Now off you go." He had said.

She had asked her Mother the same question with the result that Mrs Granger had called her child's nanny and chimed the poor maid for bringing the little girl downstairs at this hour. Soon Hermione had been whisked away by the old nurse.

"Why are they hurting him?" she had asked the old maid, annoyed at being denied a proper answer.

"Because poor Hopkins has brought his wife to the mansion." She had replied in a low whisper.

"So? You bring your son too! You are not punished, are you?" she had asked immediately.

"No little miss, but I am a pure-blood and so is my son. Hopkins's wife is a..."

" A muggle?" she had asked with wide, surprised eyes. Nothing could be worse than a muggle, her mother had said. Muggles and poor people.

"No missy, she is a- a mudblood." Whispered the old witch, fearful herself.

"A mudblood? What is that?" she had asked surprised and in return had been hushed by the frightened woman.

"No missy! You should not utter these words! Master will slay me if he knows I have told you!"

"Alright! Alright! But what is a..." she whispered the rest. " _mudblood?_ "

"Mudbloods are witches and wizards born to muggles. No one knows how it happens but once in a while they happen to enter our world. Bad thing it is, for muggles should not know we exist."

No further questions had been encouraged, and Hermione remembered having looked up various books in the absence of any other source of information. However, the enormous library in the mansion had failed her which had surprised her greatly. It wasn't before she had come to Hogwarts that the word had come up again, during their second year.

The Dark Lord's scheme to rid the wizarding world of muggle borns had not bothered her when her Father had disclosed it for the first time. Protected by the high walls of her palatial home, the terrors of the real world had seemed insignificant. But that had been before she had seen death for herself.

The rotting carcass of her once home had blurred the line between reality and her assumed image of the world. It was as if someone had slapped her out of the fantasy world and thrown the reality on her face.

This new world was dark, hopeless and smelt of death and decay. There was nothing in this future worth looking forward to, not a soul she could call her own, no family, nothing. All her beliefs of pureblood supremacy, the thought that they could not be touched had been shattered to pieces. In fact, her pure blood parents had been the first to be sacrificed in the altar for this new world order. The fate of the Grangers was a lesson to all, a reminder that similar destiny would greet them if they dare stand in the path of Dark Lord's quest to unfathomable power.

If and when the Dark Lord won, each and every witch and wizard would be reduced to a slave, even his own followers. The Death Eaters would be free to torture, to kill or maim as they pleased but at the end of the day, their lives would belong to their lord, to be cast aside and killed themselves when _he_ fancied. No freedom of thought or action, no light, no love. Suddenly she began to choke as a dark world materialised in front of her eyes. A world in which there would be no laughter and no joy but pain and torture and fear and death all around. A world that was all black.

She removed the covers quickly and left the bed. She needed to talk to somebody, get out of the confines of these walls that seemed to collapse on her. The darkness was overbearing, so she lit the candles and started the fire. The warmth spreading through the room helped marginally but not as much as she needed. Running ahead, she knocked softly on the wooden door that led to Harry's side, not even sure that he could hear her. It was a long wait, and she knocked harder and after several tries, she decided that the charms quite possibly cut off the sound. Walking back towards the couch, she decided that she would tell the boys the truth. It was quite heavy a burden to be carried around alone. And hopefully, they would understand.

...

Ron couldn't wait to get his normal life back. It was boring really, lying on the same bed for hours with nothing much to do except wait for Harry or Ginny. Even the poor bloke looked washed out; after all, he had been awake since dawn break and still managed to come down in the evening after classes.

Ginny had visited as well and Luna had accompanied her this time. The two girls looked ill with this being their O. W. L year. No wonder he hadn't seen much of Luna this term. They chatted a while, and he enjoyed the distraction of the Ravenclaw's crazy talks. But back in his bed all alone in the hospital wing, the annoying feeling in his chest was intensifying once more.

Try as hard as he might, Ron couldn't forget the interaction he had had with Hermione. With a clenching in his innards, he once again remembered that he had actually threatened to rape her. He could easily feel the reddening of his ears and neck in embarrassment and shame. His nasty temper had really got the better of him there. It was not like he had forgiven her but he just wasn't able to hold on that anger any longer. Not after last night.

He could not forget the sight as he gripped her close, and angled her anguished face to meet her lips with his. Merlin, she was beautiful! The way she had closed her eyes and given in tore his heart. Not once did she try to escape or fight back. Not once did she squirm in his tight embrace, in the rough way he handled her. Not once did she plead or try to defend herself. Had it not been the tears that rolled down her eyes, or the fury that ran through his veins at that moment, it could have been a perfect scenario of how he truly wanted her, up close, in his arms. But there wasn't anything remotely romantic there. He had almost become a brute who used his superior physical strength to force himself on a defenceless girl. He could not be more ashamed.

Her actions baffled him. It was as if she had surrendered to his will despite being aware of the repercussions of his threat. How had they managed to fuck up the situation like they had? Thank Merlin, he had not gone ahead with it. Caught or not, it would have scarred his soul forever.

Above all, despite everything she had stayed and not just that, she had soothed him somehow. Ron had no clue how it worked. He had been fighting this anger for weeks, and no matter what he tried, nothing had given him peace. She had, although she was herself the reason for his pain. The way she had held him in her arms, his face buried in the soft space below her breasts, had felt like a gush of cold air that had extinguished the flames, an apology, a promise, a caress all rolled in one.

The feeling both consoled and scared him. It was everything he wanted from her. But at the same time, he was not sure if he could ever trust her with his heart again. The complexity of the situation was overbearing. On one hand he was positive that he was way past the point where he could stop loving her, that wasn't an option, but, on the other hand, he had no strength left to trust her again. The events of the previous night had given him a hope that perhaps, she did reciprocate some bit of it, even if it was only limited to physical attraction. But giving it a chance would mean risking getting hurt again. And that, he was absolutely sure, he was not ready for.

He would rather be just friends, cordial but nothing more. And he did owe her that after his dishonourable actions the previous night. There was no doubt that, the Headmaster felt that she would be an asset in the upcoming war, and that was what he would concentrate on too, helping Harry vanquish He-who-must-not-be-named. If she passed Dumbledore's tests then, he would trust her with their mission, but that would be all. His heart would have to be satisfied with being an acquaintance, maybe even a friend, but nothing more.

Ron decided he would not hope for anything positive or even try for it when it came to Hermione Granger.

* * *

 _ **A/N:**_ Thanks to each one of you for your continued support. I can't express how much your reviews, and notifications of you following the story means to me.


	26. Confessions

**A/N:** Thanks to each one of you for your continued support.

 **All recognisable characters belong to JK Rowling, any you don't recognize and the plot belongs to me.**

* * *

 **Chapter 26: Confessions**

The shocked silence that greeted the new information was deafening. She looked from one face to the other, trying her best to gauge any untoward reaction from the two, but so far their faces depicted only horrified comprehension.

 _Say something, please?_ She muttered under her breath to herself and finally, Harry did oblige.

"Knowing how twisted Voldemort is, I shouldn't really be surprised. I am not quite sure why I still am, though." he stated and looked around at Ron. Hermione mirrored his action and stared openly at the taller boy herself. Ron was unnaturally silent, and Hermione found herself hoping for a reaction irrespective of its nature.

In the flickering glow of the fire in the grate, the light and shadows cast patterns on his face, making it difficult to read the hidden message in those blue eyes.

"How do you feel about it?" he asked finally, and she felt her heart sink a little lower. The mask of friendship was slowly slipping away to reveal the true doubt and mistrust underneath.

"Disgusted, revolted and scared." she replied honestly, keeping the eye contact on. A small nod of comprehension was the only reply she received, but the questions in those eyes did not fade away.

"Why would he need to murder your parents for that, Hermione? Surely they... supported him, didn't they?" Harry's discomfort in mentioning her dead parents and their allegations to the foulest wizard on the planet was evident in his tone. Hermione looked away from Ron. She was thankful that unlike him, Harry was, at least, taking it as a discussion and giving her a scope to clarify herself.

"They were not marked Death Eaters, Harry." she replied, trying her best to keep the hurt away and sound casual. If they had to make this work, she would have to stop getting sentimental and uncomfortable every time her parents or their allegiances came up.

"They did support the Dark Lord financially, but that was more of a strategy move to build the kind of society they believed in. You know a world without muggleborns and muggles. My Father never killed anyone. They never wanted this fate for me." She continued looking at the two boys but shying away from meeting their eyes by the end of the declaration in shame.

"Neither did I," She added in a small voice. "I remember, Father was very tensed the night the... the incident happened. I had been ordered to stay in my ward till the school reopened, with heavy security outside my wing." She clasped and unclasped her fingers at her lap, not looking at the two who sat opposite her on the rug, in front of the fireplace. "I-I originally assumed that the Order had me kidnapped and perhaps that was what Father had been worried about. Now I realise that perhaps he had an inkling of the Dark Lord's plans."

The momentary silence was broken once more by Harry.

"What happens now, Hermione?" She looked up to find him watching her intently although there was a marked kindness in his eyes this time.

"We fight to bring him down." She said confidently. If there was one thing that she was certain about, then, this was it.

"When Dumbledore told me about it, I had this strange feeling. I can't really express it in words, but it was like my childhood, past and present, flashed in front of my eyes." She noted the boys exchange a look before she continued with downcast eyes, feeling the blush creep up her cheeks remembering how she had thought constantly of Ron at the time.

"I won't deny that I originally thought highly of the Dark Lord's plans to restore the social order, but I was groomed that way. I have always been told that magic was our birthright, and sharing it with muggles was blasphemy. I was told that muggles and muggleborns were freaks of nature, an abomination. And we were forced into hiding by these very lowly people, when in fact, the wizardkind should be the true rulers." She laughed a little sadly.

A few things still made no sense, like why wizards should be in hiding, but the very root of her belief system had been shaken. She was fearful of believing anything that she had earlier thought to be the truth. What if even this was a lie and the Statute of Secrecy had some logical and correct base? Most importantly, nothing justified the killings, the making orphans of children, breaking families. It was an infinite downward spiral of doom which wasn't good for anybody, except perhaps the Dark Lord himself.

"Everything is different now," She said in a small voice. "What will I do with a pureblood society that has only destruction and grief all around? What will I do in a world that has no family members, no friends, not a soul to call my own? I might have my set of faults, Harry but I am not built to kill." She finished in a small voice.

"We never said you are." She looked up in a flash to see those blue eyes and a tiny glimpse of something she couldn't really pinpoint, gave her hope. It was a small breakthrough, perhaps not large enough for him to trust, but an understanding that she could possibly change. It would have to do for now.

"Did Dumbledore ask you share this information with us?" he asked.

"No, but he did not specifically ask me not to share it with you either," She responded. "He well... He asked me to help Harry bring the Dark Lord down, though." She added finally and did not miss the shock on both their faces.

"Does it surprise you?"

"Yes and no." Replied Harry.

"Do you wish to?" asked Ron.

She answered Ron first. "Of course, I wish to, Ron!" She met his searching eyes, hoping he saw the truth in her words for once. He watched her but did not question any further. She almost huffed in frustration. His thoughts were tediously difficult to guess, but then, he looked away, and she turned towards Harry instead.

"What do you mean by that?" she asked the bespectacled boy.

"I am surprised he would confide that in you, you know the fact that we are working to bring him down. But on the other hand, I reckon I kind of guessed his plans a little myself."

"What now?" she asked. This was so much more than just friendship. This needed trust and confidence neither of which the boys had on her.

"I don't know, Hermione." Muttered Harry and she knew it was the truth. Dumbledore could team them up together, but he could not force them to trust each other. That part had to come from within. And honestly, she was the one who had massacred things there, not just once but over and over again.

She could not deny that Harry's honesty hurt. The Headmaster had given her a hope, a reason to live and fight. It was lifeline she was holding on to. It was not just about being handed a mission. It was really more of an opportunity to built bonds with the only two people she felt attached to in these lonely times. There was some light at the end of the tunnel but it depended so much on the two trusting her.

"Hermione?" She looked up and met the green eyes unable to hide the moisture gathering in her own. Harry held her hand in a brotherly sort of way which made her feel all the more worse.

"Look, I- We know you are trying, and I am sure, if Dumbledore trusts you with this, it must mean you are worthy enough. But you have to give us some time. You have to give Ron some time." She nodded a little and lowered her eyes.

Ron got up and moved away towards the window, and the two followed his motion with their eyes.

Harry let out a sigh and looked back at her, not releasing her hands yet while she continued to look at her lap.

"I know you both have come to some kind of an understanding and, believe me, I find that very mature, especially from Ron," He spoke very softly so that only she could hear him. "I don't know how you sorted it out, and I'd rather have it that way. But you need to know that Ron is still struggling. He is putting up a brave front, but I know him more than anybody. It will not be easy for him, Hermione. But he is trying."

"I know..." she whispered back.

"I know you care for him, and I seriously hope you are not faking it this time."

She met his eyes. "I am not faking anything." She said a little hurt.

"Good, don't. You've already hurt him enough for a lifetime." The fierce friend in him was back.

"I know, and I-I am sorry, I really am." She muttered softly.

He patted her hand, and with a small nod rose up, and she did the same.

"It's very late. We should leave."

"Ron?" he called and the taller boy came forward.

"Bye, Hermione, we'll see you tomorrow." Harry promised.

"Bye, Harry."

"Bye..." It was only a word he uttered and met her eyes. But it was enough for her to see the conflicts within.

"See you, Ron..." she replied in a whisper, not breaking the gaze till he looked away.

...

"Let's go to the common room." Ron suggested. Harry was lying on his back staring at the ceiling in contemplation while he was sitting hunched down at the edge of his bed.

"Alright."

They sat together on their favourite couch, and Ron waited for Harry to cast a Muffiliato before he spoke.

"What do you think?"

"Dumbledore used Legilimency on her." concluded the bespectacled boy.

"I thought so too. Why didn't she realise it though?"

"Maybe she never expected it. It's one thing reading about it, and quite another feeling it for yourself. It isn't something that is taught casually in the classes, is it?"

"So, now you trust her?"

"I don't know, Ron. But I can understand why Dumbledore would have wanted to keep her away from Voldemort."

"Yes, and she was made to interact with only me so that, he could keep her from knowing the Orders plans in case she failed his tests..."

"I think that was to get her attached to you." Harry blurted out before he could stop himself and admonished himself sternly as Ron scoffed.

"That plan failed." He was feeling a little used to be honest. Dumbledore had no right to play games like this, but then, it wasn't likely that the Professor knew about the events of the previous year. On logical grounds, though, this was a safer bet. This way if her allegiance changed she would have already bonded with the two of her future teammates and if it didn't, well, then Harry would be out of the picture anyway and so would be the older Order members who were more informed about the Order's plans.

"Does this mean we confide in her about the Horcruxes as well?" asked Ron.

"I don't know... I was told I could share it with you. But not like we are leaving for a Horcrux hunt by ourselves, are we? So I guess this remains a secret."

"But don't the Horcruxes need to be destroyed to finish him? If she is to help you bring him down, she will have to be told. How can Dumbledore trust someone who was almost recruited as a Death Eater with the only way to finish him?" he mused aloud.

"Well, she doesn't have any inclination towards joining the dark side anymore, Ron. Those charms outside your hospital bed proved as much." Harry replied and Ron went silent.

"Is that one test enough?"

"And, we think Dumbledore used Leglimency." he reminded. "What if he saw something that made him believe her?" he asked.

"What if she realized and modified her thoughts?" questioned Ron instead.

"That is not so easy mate. She is smart, but not enough to fool Dumbledore. He would have found out in a flash if her memories were tampered with."

Ron looked torn, and Harry knew his best mate was putting all his thoughts on the table in his struggle to sieve through the words and find the truth.

"Look, this means, now she knows what a horrible fate she was destined to with the other camp. I think, that reason is enough for any sensible person to switch sides." Harry could not explain it in words, but he thought about being given the choice to join the ranks of his parents' killers. No matter how enticing the offer was, would anybody willingly side with the people who destroyed their family? And honestly, who in their right mind would be willing to join a band of ruthless killers? Perhaps some would, _but Hermione_? Harry couldn't put a finger on it, but for some strange reason, he felt an attachment towards the girl. It could be because they had both been orphaned by the same maniac. It could be because he understood her need for a family, people who cared. It could be that they shared the motivation to prevent others from losing what they had lost. Wasn't this a reason enough to trust her?

"This also means that now, she knows she can betray us and still be safe in the other camp." Contradicted Ron.

"Do you really think she'd want to ally with her parents' murderers, Ron?!"

Ron couldn't answer immediately. How could he tell Harry that a part of him was still fighting to cope up with the betrayal? How could he tell his best mate that he was tired of getting hurt every single time that he had started to trust her? And despite his promise to himself that he would rely on Dumbledore's test, he was still struggling to believe with an open mind?

"Yes, I do think she has changed allegiance." Said Harry, _Because of you,_ he thought while Ron continued to gaze at the dying embers.

Harry could see the Headmaster's plans clearly now. He had ensured Hermione had something to hold on to, something she would be reluctant to let go if she indeed thought of choosing the other side. And the old genius had succeeded. He distinctly remembered her sitting next to Ron in the hospital wing, the tenderness in her eyes were telling enough. Did Dumbledore know what hell he had put Ron through, though? He couldn't help feeling annoyed. Headmaster or not, Dumbledore was answerable to Harry for toying with Ron even if it was for a worthy cause.

* * *

A/N: Thank you for reading. Hope you liked it. Please leave a review if possible.

This is in response to Zalini's and Notsing's discussion.

I agree with Notsing that the elite pureblood society initially thought of Voldy's plans in line with their supremacy ideologies and supported him and then, much later, realised that they had bitten off much more than they could chew.

Additionally, I also feel that Voldy never mentioned that he was a half blood himself. When in the seventh book he murders the Muggle Studies professor, he sarcastically remarks about her teaching the children to mate with muggles, even going on to suggest that any child born out of a union of wizard and muggle blood would be an abomination. This makes me wonder if even the most loyal of his followers knew about his muggle father. Quite possible no one other than Pettergrew knew, and he was not someone who was held in high regard, was he? I assume that Voldy would only flaunt his connection with Salazar Slytherin and keep even his crazy maternal side unmentioned. As it is Dumbledore was among the very few who knew his history that too after much research. I can't remember where, but I think Harry mentions his true lineage to some deatheater who retaliates very strongly suggesting that they assumed that he was a pureblood himself. Another theory I have is that, since the orthodox purebloods thought of their magic to be of highest quality, they never doubted that Voldy was anything lesser than a pureblood because all said and done, he was a very strong wizard.


	27. Holiday Season

**A/N:** A huge thanks as always to my fantastic readers.

 **All rights of the characters, places and props belong to JKR. Plot is mine though.**

* * *

 **Chapter 27: Holiday Season**

The week following Hermione's terrifying reveal brought another sensational discovery. Urged on by Ron and Hermione, Harry finally resorted to the tiny little potion bottle received from Slughorn to trick the Potion master into giving up the memory that Dumbledore so required. He could not help being a little miffed with their new friend as she sided with Ron to convince him to use the potion, although she had no clue about the Horcruxes yet. All that the boys had told her was Slughorn had a memory which Dumbledore required and that Harry had failed so far to retrieve it from him. She seemed to be satisfied with sitting down with the two and working on the problem, to the extent of spending the entire Saturday afternoon discussing it, without even mentioning homework once.

And it worked.

Returning back from Dumbledore's office late that night, he walked slowly through the castle pondering over all the new information received. There was a substantial amount of fear as well.

Six parts?!

How on earth would they find six objects that could as well be anywhere on the planet? And if they failed to destroy even one of them, all the efforts of killing Voldemort would fail and he would resurrect again. While it was questionable how he could be killed in the first place, something also told Harry that it would not take the evil wizard twelve years to return this time, he would have made arrangements.

It made Voldemort's zeal to finish Harry all the more clear, finish off the only one who could be any danger to his immortality. And honestly, he seemed to have a proper back up plan in place. One failed chance and Harry would surely be dead, after all Voldemort had ensured that his mother's blood protection was breached upon. Harry had no Horcruxes to keep him alive. He cringed at the very thought. For that he would not only have to kill someone but use the death for his own benefit. Even the thought of murdering an innocent man seemed to taint his soul.

Trudging on, he realised that could understand Dumbledore's two fold plan to save Hermione. Not only was he keeping Voldemort's preferred candidate out of the maniac's reach, he was also going to use the very same person to help Harry bring him down.

" _So, I should tell Hermione about the Horcruxes, Sir?" he had asked when they had come to the end of the meeting, remembering about it the last minute._

" _Yes, but not now," replied the old man before watching Harry's confused expression with a smile and continuing. "You will know when it is time for Miss Granger to know." He finished cryptically._

" _But how, Sir?" he asked, baffled._

" _You will, Harry."_

 _He didn't know what to make of it so he asked another question that bothered him so much. It might seem insignificant to the Headmaster, but for him it was important enough._

" _Why did you put Ron though this, Sir?" he asked unable to hold back the grudge from his voice. "You have no clue what Hermione has done to him."_

" _Oh, I do know Harry." sighed the old man. "To be betrayed by the one you love is not easy. I won't say I did not have selfish reasons, but you see, it was only Ron who I could have trusted with this!"_

" _How do you know she won't hurt him again? How can you trust her not to betray us anymore?" he asked, it was crucial to know that he was putting his faith in the right person. Her betrayal would cost them more than a new heartbreak for Ron this time._

" _Miss Granger will not do anything that will harm Mr Weasley or you for that matter, Harry. And this by itself ensures that she won't side with Voldemort, no matter what the provocation."_

" _How can you be so sure, Sir?" he asked again. Couldn't Dumbledore just explain it all without the riddles?_

" _I am, my boy, but if you don't believe me just wait for her to pass the third test. That will ensure that she is worth the trust I am putting into her in this crucial mission of destroying the Horcruxes."_

 _He did not know what to make of that information. What third test?_

" _And Harry, I apologise for what I have made Ron go through, but he deserved a chance to prove to Miss Granger how her perceptions about him were false. He needed only one chance to show her, and to himself as well, I suppose, what he truly is."_

He had been dismissed soon after to ponder over the thousand questions that played in his mind.

...

The following week brought along a packed schedule for the boys as they started their Apparition classes. To Hermione's immense disappointment she received a note from the Headmaster that he was engaged in an urgent business and she would start her training only from the week post the Easter Holidays. She decided to research the theory instead, sharing her finding with the boys who were struggling with the three 'D's of apparition themselves.

Ron was neck deep in work. His schedule was chock a block with classes, Apparition training, Quidditch practices and making up for the classes he had missed. More often than not, he was now spending time with Hermione as she helped him with his pile of work. Although it had initially seemed to be very uncomfortable a situation, it had turned to be a boon, for their interaction became more normal as they discussed, grumbled and bickered over school work. Harry wasn't sure how much it dimmed their mutual attraction but it seemed the two were too tired for the teenage hormones to wreak further havoc. All in all, he could not deny that the equation between the three was becoming more natural. Somehow, for reasons unknown, it felt right. Just like his feelings for Ginny, although that seemed to be totally a one sided obsession that was marked by guilt of falling for his best mate's sister and a tiny bit of fear for his fate if her six brothers knew the kind of dreams he was having about her.

Five days passed in a rush and after classes on Thursday, a note from the elusive Headmaster brought him and Ron to Hermione's quarters again.

"Number 12, Grimmauld Place?" Hermione asked, reading off the tiny parchment Harry had handed her and looking at the boys.

"The place where you were staying before school," explained Harry. "It's a safe house and Dumbeldore is the Secret Keeper. Only he could tell you the location."

"Are we going there?" she inquired. Leaving the castle would have been a pleasant change but staying locked up in another room wasn't very appealing an option either.

"Yes, it seems so." Answered Ron pulling and reading the longer parchment addressed to the three of them. "You won't be confined to your room this time and seems Mum and Dad are already there. This says Ginny will accompany us too."

"So, I'll get to meet them?" she asked. It made her extremely nervous. While it would be pleasant to meet new people and be free to move around the house, she was sceptical about how the rest of Ron's family would be feeling about her.

"We take the floo in the early hours tomorrow and yeah, that's all." He finished reading and handed the scroll to her.

She read through and gave it back to Harry and saw them off with a tentative smile. Packing a small bag for her trip, she spent the major part of the evening worrying about the next morning till the boys returned after dinner to check on her. It was a fitful night of sleep that graced her with its presence and she woke up more than once with nightmares that depicted scowling people who taunted her mercilessly for varying reasons from her house to her birth.

Harry and Ron found her huddled on the couch with a book when they went down to take her along in the wee hours the next morning.

"Hermione?" called Harry softly as Ron glanced at her sleeping form uncomfortably.

She scrunched her brows and peered through partly opened eyes before waking up in a jolt.

"Harry! Ron! Oh my! Are we late?" she asked scrambling up and pulling the covers to wrap over her pajama clad form.

"Not yet, could you freshen up quickly? You can come with us hidden within the cloak." he said.

"Yeah! Just... Just give me a few minutes?" she asked and hurried inside without waiting for their reply.

She came out from her room soon enough, cursing her unruly hair under her breath. Her hands were aching arranging it in a neat French braid and a few locks had still managed to escape. She wore a deep blue dress under her cloak that she had transfigured it long ago and no longer remembered how it looked when she had received it. Would Mrs Weasley be offended that Hermione had altered the dress she had kindly given? She fidgeted with her sling bag that held all her belongings shrunk to fit in, looking up she met Ron's eyes once before Harry pulled the cloak over her.

They came out of the dormitory silently and met Ginny in the common room. She heard Ron whisper in his sister's ears which made the girl look at the presumably empty space between the boys.

Ginny was gorgeous, Hermione decided. Quite possibly, it ran in her genes. Was Harry looking a bit different now? She smiled to herself and turned at Ron realising that she was invisible to them anyway. She took the opportunity to watch him instead. He had not shaved and appeared to have not bothered more than changing out of his pajamas. His hair looked as if he had merely run his fingers through them but it made her heart skip a beat nevertheless. She loved the normalcy of their interaction, was thankful for it actually. It was difficult to say what he thought of her big reveal but she knew he was still struggling to trust her. She could only hope that time would heal the wounds she had given him. Given a chance, she would have made every effort to heal him herself but for obvious reasons, she had kept that wish to herself. She was also slightly surprised, albeit pleasantly, that Lavender had not made an appearance to see him off. It would not suit her bleeding heart to see him wrapped up in someone else's arms. But then, she hadn't heard the girl during their hospital stay or heard of her. Hermione did not have high hopes, maybe Ron was just keeping that part of his life away from her, she thought sadly. Maybe they would have said their goodbyes before coming to her quarters? She decided she could do without imaging the kind of goodbye Ron would have received from his girlfriend.

They were making towards Professor McGonagall's staff quarters, and the three were chatting amongst themselves in hushed whispers. Hermione noticed the slightly conscious way Harry laughed at Ginny's words and the way he reddened when she turned at him. It was hard to miss how the Boy-Who-Lived had fallen for this pretty red haired witch. Did Ron know? She assumed, not.

She smiled fondly at the messy haired, bespectacled boy who once looked like the teenager that he was. Who would have guessed that she, Hermione Granger would find Harry Potter the closest thing to a sibling she never had? But that was how it was. She knew Harry felt the same way for her and it made her resolve to stand by them all the more stronger. She wondered if she could be friends with Ginny. It would be nice to have a girl of her age for company, she missed Daphne after all. From what she could make out, Ginny appeared to be confident and funny. Well they would see, wouldn't they?

She gripped her sling tighter, feeling nervousness grip her all over again as Harry knocked on the wooden door of the Professor's quarters.

She removed the cloak once they were all inside and the students greeted their teacher. Ron introduced her to Ginny and the girls shared a small greeting, which Hermione felt was a little cautious and guarded from the younger girl. She was not very surprised.

"Mr Weasley, you and Miss Weasley will go first and Miss Granger and Mr Potter will follow you. Molly is already waiting for you." She informed and Ron duly took his place and disappeared in a flash. Ginny followed and then it was only Harry and Hermione. She took her place in the floo and with her heart hammering inside her flooed off.

A large cavernous room materialized at the end of her travel. She knew she had reached the correct place because two familiar red head figures were standing a little ahead with their back towards the floo. It seemed as if they were being hugged by someone who was shorter than them. Gulping down a feeling of intense discomfort, she paused to get a grip.

This was insane, she was finally in the company of people like she had been wishing for days. And now, when she finally had that chance, she felt an intense urge to travel back to the school, run and hide in her chambers instead. Perhaps, the months of confinement had finally taken a toll on her sanity and turned her into some strange version of a social recluse. _But this would not do!_ Fighting her anxiety, she tentatively placed a foot outside the floo when a few things happened simultaneously.

A larger body appeared next to her, knocking her face first out of fireplace. Her leg buckled and she went flying out of the tiny space, instantly closing her eyes and waiting for the inevitable pain of her nose hitting hard, stone floor. However, she was much surprised to land into a pair of strong, muscular arms instead. She opened her eyes to find a dashing pair of unfamiliar eyes looking at her curiously.

"Are you okay?" the person asked and she managed a meek reply because in all honestly, her leg was actually hurting, also, she was currently in a very undignified position, half on the floor and rest supported in his arms. He held her hand to help as she pushed her weight on her legs, biting the pain that seared through her ankles at the attempt.

"Thank you." She managed, breathing deeply while her eyes watered. She recognised him as one of the twins but could not say which one.

Other voices were slowly coming into focus including a flustered Harry's who was apologizing profusely somewhere behind her. Ron, Ginny and the other twin along with their mother, had gathered around her and she could feel her face burn in embarrassment. _What a horrible first impression!_

"My poor dear! I hope you are not hurt?" Mrs Weasley asked kindly and took the chair one of her children handed her. For some strange reason, the look of the motherly lady drove all nervousness out of her.

"I'm alright, just a slight pain in my right ankle." Hermione replied managing a smile but winced in pain immediately.

"I'm so sorry Hermione!" apologized Harry, coming forward to stand in front of her.

"It's alright, Harry. I should have left the floo earlier." She replied as she was made to sit on a chair and soon Mrs Weasley had healed her aching ankle. Letting out a sigh of relief, she stood up tentatively, happy to note that the pain had subsided completely. She thanked the elderly witch who pulled her into a warm hug instead.

"I am so glad you are finally here with us. Never supported Albus's idea on keeping you locked up that way, you know?" she said patting the younger girl's cheeks affectionately. Hermione felt an unexpected sense of warmth that made her feel lighter than she had in months, she also felt strangely teary in a good way. Unable to frame a coherent sentence, she nodded slightly. Something in Molly's eyes told her that the lady understood.

Finally Molly released her to move over to fret over Harry and she noticed the others who were chatting amongst themselves. The twins, she noticed, were shorter than Ron but more strongly built. Even in muggle casuals, they looked very well put together. Both men greeted her cordially as Ron introduced them and she realised that she was helped by Fred. They really were very difficult to recognise separately, only different colour of jumpers identified them. For some reason she could not comprehend, Ron looked slightly miffed.

"It's much too early, you all can go to bed for a few more hours if you wish." announced Mrs Weasley as she guided a set of mugs of steaming hot chocolate onto the huge table that sat at the centre of the room.

Hermione dropped her bag on end of the long table like the others had done, and went ahead to take a seat. Only Ron and Harry had slumped down on the chairs on either side of the table while the rest were busy pulling out muffins from the adjacent pantry, Mrs Weasley was still at the stove. She debated internally for a minute and finally pulled the chair next to Harry. The others returned soon and while Fred pulled the chair next to hers, George and Ginny occupied the opposite ones, next to Ron. Mrs Weasley brought in some sandwiches for her elder boys who would be leaving for the shop early. Soon the group was merrily chatting away sipping their hot chocolates and nibbling away on the eatables.

Hermione took to replying when spoken to and watched the others. The twins were their jovial best as they cracked jokes and told them about their latest products. She got to know that the two had temporarily moved in to the Grimmauld Place for the holiday weekend like their parents but would be out most of the day running their shop. Harry too seemed to partake in the conversation easily and she realised that, the Weasleys had adopted him like a family over the years. She couldn't help notice the contrast of the present scenario with the one she knew at home. The meal times at Grangers were an impeccable affair that went like a well choreographed dance. The courses, their attire and table manners had been perfected over the years. Her father spoke of his work and other social issues with her mother, while she was taught to be silent and speak up only when spoken to. This, on the contrary, reminded her of the house tables in the Great Hall. People spoke as they ate, pulling off and passing on plates amongst each other. It was like a cacophony of sounds and laughter that hit her sound deprived senses, leaving her slightly overwhelmed. She noticed that Ron was still looking a little grumpy and more often than not, Ginny sent a sceptical look at her direction. Hermione had no clue what to make of it.

Once the plates were cleared of even the last crumbs, Mrs Weasley shoed the younger ones off to bed.

"Hermione dear, later in the day you can shift in with Ginny if you wish to. Her room is set up on the first floor."

She glancing at Ginny and unable to fathom the expression on the younger girl's face, nodded a little doubtfully in the older witch's direction.

The twins were pulling out their travelling cloaks and she was caught a little surprised when Fred came to forward to speak to her.

"See you Hermione. I hope to show you some of our special products that are for pretty witches like you." He said softly bending ever so slightly and meeting her eyes, his eyes twinkling in the mirth that played on his lips.

"Thank you, I think I'll love that." She replied with a smile that came easily. Up close she could see the resemblance he shared with Ron, the way their eyes crinkled the same way when they smiled.

"I'm going off to sleep. Harry are ya coming?" called Ron loudly and she looked away from Fred, a little embarrassed.

"Prat." murmured Fred under his breath as he watched his younger brother leave the kitchen pushing open the door a little more forcefully than required, finally, waving her once more, he flooed out with his twin.

...

She tossed and turned in her bed in the same room on the third floor where she had spent the summer. It wasn't like she was not sleepy, but her nerves were much too active. Finally tired of tossing and turning, she threw away her covers and she cautiously came out of the room. She would have loved to look around the house, but it could possibly look a lot like snooping, so she dropped the plan. She went down the steps instead, pausing for a while outside the room where she knew Harry and Ron would be sleeping. Ron had looked specifically miffed about something since their arrival. and she had no clue what it could be. She wondered if away from schoolwork and their natural distraction, he would go back to being his sulky self, not speaking to her unless absolutely required. Or perhaps, he was apprehensive about her judging his family? She slowly made her way down to the kitchen. Over the months, many things had proved her earlier notions false. She cringed at the memory of her own words. There were still many people she had to meet, but if his mother and brothers were anything to go by, whatever the Weasleys lacked in gold, they made up with love and laughter. And it was a good deal anyday.

Hermione knocked on the kitchen door and entered to find Molly Weasley whipping up an appetizing breakfast. The plum woman turned sharply at the noise, pulling her wand in front.

"Oh! I'm sorry Mrs Weasley, I didn't mean to scare you!" she apologized immediately putting up her hands in surrender.

"No... No." The older woman waved slightly and tucked her wand back in her apron. "I'm sorry. Actually it's these times, you know? Anyway, I was expecting you all to be asleep. Anything you need, dear?"

"No, I-I'm good, thank you. Just couldn't sleep."

Molly nodded understandingly. "Need some tea?"

"No, please, it's all right. You are busy."

"Oh come on! Tea is never a trouble." She replied and soon two cups of hot brew made their way to the table. Putting her knives, pots and pans to work, Molly pulled a chair for herself in front of the younger girl. She was quick to put Hermione at ease and they spoke easily. The older witch told her stories of her childhood and school life and finally anecdotes of her children. Soon the two women were chatting away happily, Hermione feeling more relaxed than she had in days.

Their conversation was broken by the sound of the door opening. A slightly drowsy Ron entered, followed by Ginny and Harry who were softly chatting with each other. The tall boy glanced at the girl who sat with his mother while the women watched him back, looking as if they had been interrupted in the middle of something funny his mother was stating.

Hermione glanced at Ron. He looked genuinely surprised and a little messy with his tee peeping out from under his jumper, mussed up hair and prominent, copper stubble. He ran his fingers through his hair, ruffling them further and she bit her lips and lowered her eyes. He was looking so carelessly handsome that she felt her heart beating a tad bit faster at his sight. She could feel the blush creeping up, colouring her cheeks and berated herself hard, but with no result.

The three took their places and Molly got up to bring their breakfast. The rest of the meal passed well enough and Hermione felt much more at ease. Even Ginny seemed to have lightened up for some reason and took the initiative to strike up a conversation that rolled on between the girls till the afternoon.

Finally, she was really enjoying the holidays. With the help of her new found friend she got her things from the third floor and set up the spare bed in Ginny's bedroom. She had no clue where Ron and Harry were, and for once, was not bothered. Later in the day, the girls came down and helped Molly set up the table for another batch of fabulous meal that was lunch. The twins were coming down and also someone named Nymphadora Tonk who introduced herself simply as 'Tonks'. She looked a little down to Hermione, but Ginny ensured her that earlier, Tonks used to be a really high spirited girl. The young Gryffindor also suggested that she suspected the young Auror was actually heartbroken over some man, although, Ginny didn't really have a clue who it could be.

The twins arrived soon and filled the room with more laughter. Fred came ahead and quickly claimed the place next to Hermione. She happily took part in the meal time ritual this time, chatting, laughing and passing the plates and pumpkin juice jugs to one another. Allowing Fred to fill her goblet with the lip-smacking juice, and taking in a deep gulp, she decided that _this_ was the absolute correct way to have meals.

...

She woke up in her earlier bedroom feeling a little disoriented.

 _Hadn't she taken her stuff down to Ginny's room? Then why was she here?_

It seemed to be dark outside and the room was only lit by a few candles high up on the wall. She removed the covers and left the bed, noticing that she was dressed in the same peach coloured nightgown which she had been rescued in.

 _When did she change?_

Something was different, and she could not decide what though. It felt strange, like anticipation, but for some unknown reason, it did not scare her, on the contrary, she felt an urgent need to open the door and go out.

 _Why?_

Her feet carried her out of the door that was unlocked and she descended down the staircase one step at a time, her shoes breaking the silence of the otherwise unnaturally silent house.

 _Where was everyone?_

"Hello?" she called. Surprisingly, she was still not feeling scared. As she went lower she could roughly make out someone who was sitting on the stairs in the landing outside the second floor. Recognising that mop of hair, she felt a sense of calm and nerves hit her simultaneously.

"Ron?" she called softly, a little confused at how his name sounded on her lips.

He turned his head slightly.

" _Hermione..._ "

"Where is everyone?" she asked, stopping a couple of steps behind him, holding on to the railing for some reason.

 _Did he just whisper her name like that?_

"They have all gone to the Diagon Alley." He replied, still looking away.

"Oh! And, you?"

"I'm here to keep guard." He answered.

"Harry?"

"He left too. It's just you and me..." She could feel her heart beading madly. There was something in his voice that made her dizzy and a little bit scared as well.

"Does it bother you?" he asked.

"I'm sorry... what?"

"Does it bother you that we are alone here?"

"N-No." She managed as he got up and turned at her slowly, his face lit up partly by the candles on the wall next to them.

"But it should, you know?" he whispered while he took in her face, his eyes stopping shamelessly on her lips.

" _Why_...?" she breathed, captivated by his eyes, and that face that was so close to hers.

"Because I am not the right person to guard you..." He replied as he cupped her face with his right palm. His long fingers entangled in her hair while his thumb brushed over her lips. His eyes never moved away from the ministration of his finger.

"Y-You aren't?" she managed somehow. Every nerve in her body was tingling now. Her legs were feeling like jelly and she gripped the railing harder.

"No. I can't guard you against myself." He answered simply as his left hand moved, catching her swiftly around her waist, and causing an involuntary gasp to escape from her lips.

"R-Ron..."

"Are you scared of me, Hermione?"

"A-A little."

"Good. You should be." He replied with a satisfied smile and licked his lips.

She released a shaky breath.

"Do you know why you should be scared of me?" he asked and she shook her head in response. Her eyes were caught in his gaze, unable to look away from those blue ones that seemed to be filled with undisguised love and a scary amount of passion.

"Because, I wish to do things to you Hermione, touch you like no one has ever before, claim you for myself, mind...body and soul." He whispered and she lowered her eyes, blushing till the roots of her hair.

"Look at me." He said and she forced her heavy eyelids to do his bidding.

A set of firm lips crashed on hers the moment their eyes met, and her eyes closed of their own accord while she melted in his arms. His lips and tongue were skilled, she knew that already, didn't she? And they were persistent. They pulled, sucked and probed till she relented and with a deep, feral growl he claimed her mouth while his left arm pulled her closer. His fingers were gently tugging on her hair, angling her face to his demand. She tentatively began kissing him back and that seemed to take him off the edge, as he kissed her harder. How on earth she was still standing, she had no clue, maybe because her weight was balanced on him completely, and she was holding around his neck for support.

 _When did that happen?_

He released her lips and she groaned softly at the loss of contact but not for long. His mouth had moved to her exposed neck as he tugged on her hair to tilt her back slightly. Her feet were still a couple of steps above him which balanced their height, positioning his face perfectly at her breast if he bent a little. She gasped audibly as his mouth came down on her exposed skin just below her collar bone, her hands moving into his hair of their own accord.

"Rrron..."

Urged perhaps by his name, Ron untangled his fingers from her curls and placed them on the laced neckline instead and pulled them down an inch. Hermione was sure she would pass out from the sheer amount of sensations flooding her body as his fingers grazed the top of her breasts. Was she wearing anything underneath? She hoped not.

He stopped what his fingers were doing and lowering his mouth, placed his lips directly on her satin covered nipple, sucking it very gently as she gasped aloud. He licked the sensitized bud, wetting the thin film of cloth and rendering it translucent. No, she definitely had no innerwear.

He stopped for a minute. "Do you want me to go on?" he asked and sucked the nipple once more.

"Y-Yes."

"The other one?" he asked seductively and bit the tip softly between his teeth once.

"Y-Yesss." She managed.

"You're sure?" he teased.

"Ron!" she urged, unable to bear the separation of his lips from her body.

"Hermione." He called back softly.

"Hermione!" he called again but for some reason, his voice sounded different.

"Hermione!"

This time she snapped her eyes open and was dazzled by the flooding light of the room.

 _Hold on... Room?!_

She focused harder and found a grinning face close to her own... that of Fred Weasley.

She looked around a little dumbfounded, taking in the silence of the room and the curious faces who were looking at her intently. She wanted to ask if she had dozed off but couldn't.

 _Had she really cried out Ron's name?!_ She seriously hoped not.

"How was the demo?" asked Fred, grinning wickedly and she turned around in horror to watch a similar grin on the other twin. This couldn't be happening! Did they know?!

"Don't worry, we don't know what you saw or whom you saw, for that matter." Answered George with a smirk still playing on his lips and she gulped slightly, still not sure what was happening.

"You have actually experienced our latest, extremely hit product, The Day Dreaming Potion," he continued. "A perfected and personalised day dream charm with the man or woman of your dreams, in various different settings you can choose from. I believe, you had the Home-Alone version?"

She neither acknowledged nor refuted his words, stunned as she was. Thankfully, Molly seemed to be absent. Hermione licked her lips and picked up the goblet for a sip.

"Don't drink that!" admonished Ron sternly and she met his eyes briefly before looking away immediately and blushing crimson at his sight. But she decided to heed his words and let the goblet be.

"I-I'll be back." She muttered softly to no one in particular and literally ran out of the door.

* * *

 _A/N: Thank you for reading. Please leave a review, thanks!_


	28. A Snippet of Your Time

**A/N:** Thank you all for those wonderful reviews. I am keeping my author notes to a bare minimum nowadays so that you get to the story faster. Thank you all for keeping me motivated.

 **Well only the plot here is mine, rest is all JKR's**

* * *

 **Chapter 28: A Snippet of Your Time**

"What did you do that for?"

The question was out of his lips before Ron could have stopped himself. The twins, Harry and Ginny turned away sharply from the partially open door to face him.

"Ronniekins, are you talking to us?" commented Fred surprised. Harry noted Ron fumble for a minute. It wasn't very usual for the youngest Weasley male to prompt his brothers for any of their pranks.

"Y-Yes. Look, she has gone through pretty much already," He replied in what Harry decided to be a very brave tone. "Just let her get used to this whole thing first."

The twins shared, what could only be described as a wicked grin, and Harry wondered when it would be a good time to intervene without putting Ron into more trouble.

"Do we smell something, Forge?" asked Fred, turning together to stare at their youngest brother, every feature of the two telling how much they were enjoying this.

"Yes, I think we do, Gred."

"I don't care. Why don't you experiment on someone who knows what you are up to?" Ron's ears had turned a brilliant shade of red and somehow Harry was amazed that he hadn't backed down yet.

"Because this is turning out to be more fun that we thought it would be." grinned George in reply.

"Do you have any confessions, dear little brother?" inquired Fred and Ron looked shocked, embarrassed and defiant all at once. Pushing back the chair, he huffed and left the room just as Hermione had done a while ago while his brothers broke into raucous laughter.

"This was the best demo we've had in a while." declared George when they had finally settled down.

"I agree." Managed Fred, hiccupping himself back to normalcy and Harry realized that it was high time for him to put a stopper on any further plans the twins might churn out. Merlin knew, the two were already waist deep in the mess they had created for themselves, without further help for the mischief masters themselves.

"Guys, just let it pass, will you?" he asked.

"Do you know something..." asked Fred.

"... that we don't?" finished George.

"Look, they had a really messy start, and now after months, things have settled down slightly. Please, if you don't wish to see me go insane, just forget what happened, okay?" He wasn't sure how good a job he was doing.

"That's unfair! How can we deny a request from the Chosen One himself, Fred?"

"That too when it questions the sanity of his already insane mind!"

"But, because we have hearts of gold," they said in unison, "We promise not to say anything to Ron regarding this." stated Fred as the two of them put up their hands in surrender.

"Thanks, guys." replied Harry looking from one to the other, wondering what they might come up with next. No matter what they said, it was highly unlikely that they would let this golden opportunity go waste. He turned towards Ginny noticing that she was watching the whole scene in silence, lost in her own calculations perhaps.

...

Hermione dried her face with the towel, noticing that many of her toiletries were still here on the third floor attached bath. She looked at her reflection in the mirror. A few shorter curls had come loose from her braid while she had run upstairs, having forgotten that she now occupied the room on the lower level. Her face still glowed in embarrassment which she realised, had more to do with her dream, than having been fooled by the twins. The thought of facing Ron was mortifying. She closed her eyes, and the events of her dream materialised again in front of them.

"No!" she groaned.

She couldn't decide whether to be happy or upset. It was a fantastic piece of magic that made the whole experience seem more real than she would perhaps ever have. But at the same time, it was a stark reminder of what was in front of her, what she craved but was still far beyond her reach.

Leaving the bathroom, she walked out and crashed on the bed, holding a cushion close to her chest, rolling on her tummy and burying her face in the mattress. She could live without the physical intimacy no matter how much she desired it, if only, Ron would look at her with as much love as he did in her dreams... She closed her eyes to see that face again, _just once_ , she told herself...

...

It was minutes later that she coaxed herself to go downstairs. Her flight must have looked extremely odd, and she really wanted to make this work. For a fleeting minute, she hoped that the twins would have left, and Harry and Ron would just disappear in some part of the house as they had done earlier. Hermione didn't really fancy answering Ginny either, but somehow, that would be difficult to avoid. She could only hope that the younger girl would have pity on her and not probe.

Pulling herself off the bed, she brushed the gown to smoothen the creases and buttoned up the deep navy cardigan she wore over it. Taking a deep breath, she opened the door and walked slowly but purposefully towards the steps.

She had not even reached the second landing when a familiar sight greeted her vision causing her to grip the railing tightly just like in her dream. Immediately she removed her hand from the cold metal as if scorched.

"R-Ron?"' she whispered as the figure hunched on the stairs turned around.

"Hermione..."

She was sure she had forgotten how to breathe; a lump seemed to be stuck in her throat as well, making it very difficult for her to even gulp down her shock.

"Care to chat for a while?" he asked softly, gesturing the small space next to him on the stairs.

"S-Sure." She replied in a small voice, and walked down the remaining two steps, clutching the sides of her gown that were flailing against his legs. She lowered herself down slowly, sitting a step above him, even as her heart thudded madly in her chest. He shifted as much as the narrow space would allow, leaving a very thin film of air to keep their legs from touching.

Ron was still close, _way too close_...

Hermione rubbed her fingers against each other, looking intently at her lap. She could feel his eyes taking in her face, and they seem to set her skin on fire. She had never been more grateful about the natural darkness of the house. A wisp of cold air blew in from somewhere, perhaps a crack in the attic, and it played havoc on her loose curls as well as chilled her arm that was next to him. Refraining the urge to warm herself by rubbing her palm on the cold muscles or even adjusting her hair, she pulled the cardigan closer, her hands brushing ever so slightly against him.

"I am sorry for the prank they played." It wasn't the words, but the tone that made her look at him. The anguish and the shame were obvious even in the dim light floating down from the candles high above.

"Ron-" she began but he cut her off.

"They don't realise that sometimes their pranks genuinely hurt others."

Hermione couldn't decide if he was talking about her or himself.

"It's alright, they were just having fun. I didn't mind, honestly!" She stressed managing a nervous laugh. "And, it really was some great magic."

He looked at her for a minute before turning away looking offended. She wasn't sure what she had said to garner that reaction.

"Still, that's no way... I mean, it's not like... I... well, I'm sure you are finding it difficult to adjust anyway." He whispered after much effort and Hermione was sure it wasn't even close to what he actually wanted to say.

"Are you saying this because of what I said about... about your family earlier?" she asked feeling a little hurt and angry at the same time, feelings that only aggravated as he remained silent.

"Why can't you just let go, Ron!" she cried helplessly. "How many times do you want me to apologize before you start believing me? Why can't you see, I-I am trying my level best to be the person you want me to be?" she gasped as their eyes met and reiterated. "I-I mean, why can't you see I don't hold those opinions anymore?! Why can't you see that I hate the words I said, just as much as you do?" she finished, holding back angry tears of frustration. She bit her lips and lowered her eyes, too hurt to even want to look at him.

"I'm sorry..." he said in a small voice but it sounded genuine. "I am trying too... to forget, you know," He added and her heart gave a painful twist. What was he trying to forget? Was it her past deeds or the love that he had for her?

"And?" she asked meeting his eyes, somehow wanting to know the full hurtful truth. Heck, it would hurt, but she was tired of building small castles of hope and watching them get crushed every time. Wasn't it better to know once and for all that this crazy dream of hers had no future so that she could stop the unending chain of useless hope and pain?

"I am not sure what you are asking."

"Do you really believe that I am still the same girl from last year? Are you tolerating me just for the sake of the mission Dumbledore has assigned you?" she managed, trying her level best to avoid her voice from cracking.

He paused and watched her for a long time. Hermione wanted the gaze she remembered from their time in the library but all she could see was a struggle, confusion and helplessness.

"I want to believe you," He said finally running his fingers through his hair in frustration. "I don't know why, despite everything that has happened, I still want to trust you. Perhaps I do trust you for the mission because Dumbledore does so too but... "

"... you are still apprehensive." She finished for him looking away.

"Why did you forgive me, Hermione? How could you just move on after the way I treated you, after everything I said... things that I almost did?" he asked, guilt marring his handsome features and she realised that on some level, he was struggling to forgive himself just as much as he was struggling to forgive her.

"We really had a horrid start, didn't we?" she asked in a weak attempt at humour, but he didn't even smile and she continued.

"Ron, we can't hold on to the past forever. And honestly, I was equally guilty. Guarding someone like me wasn't surely a pleasant task for you, was it? And yet... you did. You saved me in the Room of Requirements, took care of me during my most vulnerable moments. And w-what I remember happened in the infirmary was that you never did a-anything to h-hurt me." Hermione knew her face would be burning by now, her toes were already curling in the memory of the night. She had looked away somewhere in between, and in no way was able to meet his gaze. Slight shuffling indicated he was feeling as conscious as she was, perhaps more.

They stayed silent for the longest time after her words but neither showed any inclination to leave.

"Forgive yourself, even if you can't forgive me, Ron" She murmured and could again feel his eyes on her face.

"I want to move on, trust you again," He said softly, a tiny ray of hope emerging in her heart at the sincerity of his words.

"I know." She replied meeting his eyes and for a flicker perhaps, somewhere among the light and the shadows, she saw a glimpse of the Ron she was searching for.

"Good to see, you've found a friend in Ginny," He stated a while later in a much more normal tone.

"Yeah," She answered with an easy smile that glinted in her eyes. "I think I love your Mum," She added before she could stop herself, and bit her lower lip consciously.

"Er... thanks... She is a little over the top at times but –"

"- she is perfect Ron, just like mothers should be." She finished for him and watched his ears redden. She found it exceptionally cute how he blushed at even the slightest hint of a compliment.

"I am sorry about the twins." She knew it was his way of changing the topic but she indulged him.

"Don't be. I think their magic is phenomenal. Even the Slytherins couldn't help appreciate their firework display last year, mind you, this was strictly within our dorm walls." They laughed candidly, perhaps the first time ever.

"You should have seen the Gryffindor common room when they tested their products on the first years."

She sounded absolutely appalled, "What?! First years? They are kids, Ron!"

He perhaps wanted to point out that she was less offended when they had tested the product on her but refrained.

"It's good for them you weren't a Gryffindor prefect then." He joked, and she looked torn between trying to look angry and a little hurt. She had never wished it more that she would have been sorted in his house in the first year.

"Did you shift your things in Ginny's room?" he asked changing the topic again.

"Yes. I think I'll pick up some more books, though. Might as well take them now." She needed to get away from him. As much as she was enjoying this alone time, she didn't trust herself not to kiss him if she stayed any longer. Her fingers were practically itching to run into his hair, and she was utilizing every bit of self-control not to inch up and place her lips on his.

She licked her lips and lowering her eyes from his face, stood up.

"I'll help you." He said and got up as well.

...

She concentrated on pulling out the books rather than looking at the tall man who stood behind her, arranging them in a neat pile which they could levitate downstairs.

"How many more do you need, Hermione? Blimey woman! We have barely two more days of holidays left!" he stated, as she pulled out yet another huge volume and handed it to him.

"Just one more, please?" she replied looking at him once and turning around to concentrate back on the shelf, pulled out another five to make a choice. She had barely picked up one which had no title when it was snatched away from her hands.

"Are you crazy?! Don't you remember what that book did to you last time?" he chided, spending not a minute to throw it unceremoniously on the table and pulling her hands, palms up, in his own larger ones.

Too stunned to react, she watched him in awe. She felt his hands turning her smaller ones around, searching for any sign of boils that had erupted the last time. Finally satisfied, he met her eyes as the realization hit them simultaneously.

"You have to be worthy!" they stated in unison and turned sharply at the tome that lay innocently on the table.

The hardcover seemed to have flipped opened when Ron had dropped it, and words were slowly materializing on its first page, in a long slanting writing, they both recognized.

* * *

 _ **A/N:**_ Thank you for reading. Sorry for the cliffy, but that just had to be a different chapter!


	29. Bolts from the Blue

A/N: Sorry to leave you all with that cliffy, but here is the next chapter and the much anticipated reveal of the 'cursed book'. Do let me know if you guessed it or was it a shock/surprise?

 **All Characters, props and places mentioned here (baring the ones you don't recognise from the books) belong to JKR, the plot is mine though.**

* * *

 **Chapter 29: Bolt from the Blue**

"Wait, could you read it?" he asked, shutting the book with a slam and turning towards her. The previous time, her eyes had burnt by merely glancing at it, and Ron had no intentions what so ever of taking that chance again. He couldn't even remember where he had left the salve, neither was Dumbledore here to help this time.

Hermione, however, was still staring at the closed book. "I definitely could, Ron." She whispered a little fearfully and pointed at the cover.

The book seemed to be losing the enchantments put on it and was returning to its true form. Black gave way to a dirty dried blood-red colour, which now had words forming on it – Secrets of the Darkest Arts.

"Don't touch it. I'll call Harry." He said sternly to the girl who was watching the magic unfold with a mixture of curiosity and repulsion. Pulling open the door, he yelled out for his best mate as loud as his lungs would allow. But when even after three tries there was no response from downstairs, he turned around to face the girl who had inched closer to the table, obviously much too tempted to read it.

"Hermione?" he called pulling her attention back to him, "Don't touch it before I am back. I'm still not sure what this is all about. Don't touch or read it, you get it?"

"Y-Yeah." She replied a little putout but understanding his concern, nonetheless.

Ron was out in a flash. He rushed down the stairs, jumping a couple of them at each landing till he pushed open the door to the kitchen and pulled out the spectacled boy who was still chatting away merrily with Ginny.

"Hey!" she called in surprise and annoyance while Harry managed only a – "Wha-" before Ron had pulled him out of the chair and up the stairs. Noting the urgency, Harry was finally matching steps with Ron's much longer ones.

"What is happening?" he managed to huff once they had already crossed the second level.

"Remember that book?" answered the taller guy without breaking step, "the one that cursed Hermione?" he panted. "It's a book of dark magic." He finished as they reached the final landing.

Nothing more was required as an explanation, and the two boys barged into Hermione's old room one after the other.

"There!" breathed Ron indicating the sickly article on the table. Harry took in a few deep breaths and clutched his sides, tilting sideways to take a look.

Finally, gathered around the table, Harry tentatively flipped open the cover even as Ron held his wand out for precaution, looking extremely sceptical. The words that had begun to form when they had touched earlier was

"This was a library book?!" noted Hermione looking at her two friends and slowly Harry began to read aloud.

 _Dear Harry, Ron and Hermione,_

 _If you can read this text, it means you have proved yourself worthy to be entrusted with the terrible secret it holds and it is now time for you to know it._

 _This book has caused much evil earlier, and to prevent history from repeating, I have enchanted it to reveal its words only to those who are pure and brave at heart, wizards and witches who will use it not to create but destroy evil._

 _Any person with the slightest affirmation with the dark side or one who sympathises with the evil forces will be cursed upon touch, effectively prohibiting the person from retrieving any information held within these pages. Having learned from my past mistake, I have also ensured that no evil can use a pure heart as a pawn from getting the secrets from it. In such a scenario the pure at heart will be unaffected by the curse, but the book's secrets will not be revealed either._

 _I hope you will use it well._

 _I am, yours most sincerely,_

 _Albus Dumbledore_

Ron turned towards the girl standing next to Harry while his heart gave a leap. She had pulled the book away from him and was reading Dumbledore's note again. A heavy weight seemed to have lifted from his shoulders. She was indeed true to the cause as Harry had insisted ever since his poisoning. All his crazy heart wanted to do was to wrap her in his arms and snog her senseless.

"I have never seen a darker book than this in my entire life and believe me I have seen quite a few," She said breaking his internal musings while she flipped through the pages and ran her finger over the contents. Ron noted that her brows were scrunched in disgust and she was flipping its pages in a way most people would handle something dead and decaying.

"What is all this about?" she asked sombrely, turning towards the boys as they glanced at each other, a silent communication passing through them. All of Dumbledore's words about trusting Hermione were now making sense, this was the third and final test, and she had most definitely passed.

"We've to tell her about the Horcruxes, mate," Ron nodded at Harry suggestion and pulling out the chair, flopped down on it.

"Horcruxes? Wait, this is mentioned here." She spoke almost to herself. Finding the correct page she read aloud from the book.

" _A_ _ **Horcrux**_ _is a powerful object in which a Dark wizard or witch has hidden a fragment of his or her soul for the purpose of attaining immortality."_

She paused to stare in shock at the two boys, and Ron could almost see the realization trickle through her.

" _Creating one Horcrux gave one the ability to anchor one's own soul to earth if the body was destroyed?!"_

She gulped down audibly and looked fearfully at her companions. "T-This is about the Dark Lord, isn't it? Has he created a Horcrux? Is that how he c-came back?"

"This is going to take some time. You might as well sit down." Ron said as he locked the door and she flopped down on her bed, Harry sat down next to her.

Slowly, they began their story that started from the time Harry's parents were murdered. They told her of the Sorcerer's stone and Voldemort's attempt at stealing it, they told her about the diary and the Basilisk, about Voldemort's return at the end of their fourth year, which she knew courtesy Harry's interview with the Quibbler. They told her of the prophecy and the fight in the Ministry of Magic. And finally, they disclosed Voldemort's history as found out from the memories Dumbledore had shown Harry.

"Dumbledore assumes that Voldemort intended to make seven Horcruxes." finished Harry looking at the girl, who had turned almost white as he had concluded his long narration with Ron's help.

"S-Seven?" she managed looking between the two.

"Yes," They replied solemnly in unison.

"Tom Riddle's Diary, Marvolo Gaunt's Ring, Hufflepuff's Cup, Slytherin's Locket, Nagini, his snake and something that belonged to Godric Gryffindor or Ravena Ravenclaw." counted Ron on his fingers.

"Not Gryffindor's perhaps because his sword is certainly no Horcrux." corrected Harry.

"The one you killed the Basilisk with." Murmured Hermione almost to herself, it was evident that her brain was already working away on the problem. "But that makes six."

"And don't forget the part of his soul that resides in his own body." pointed Ron again, while she flipped out to the Horcrux section, reading away silently but faster than Ron had ever seen anyone do in his life.

"So in order to finish him, all these six objects must be destroyed first?" she asked pausing and looking up.

"Four not six, Harry already destroyed the diary and Dumbledore destroyed the ring," Ron told her.

She began reading again from the point she had stopped before. "This says here that even by making one Horcrux, the wizard or witch makes the rest of his or her soul very vulnerable. By making so many, You-Know-Who would have rendered his soul extremely unstable."

"Doesn't make him any less threatening, if you ask me." Observed Ron. Somewhere during their conversation all three of them had landed sprawled on the carpeted floor. Harry and Hermione were leaning against the bed while Ron had his back to the door.

"When all the Horcruxes are destroyed, he will be a mortal once again." Said Harry remembering the conversation he had had with the Headmaster.

"Part or whole, that spawn of the devil will still be a tough one to do in," grumbled Ron. The idea was insane in his opinion, a suicide mission, but one in which he had willingly enrolled years ago really. And now, Hermione was in it too. Suddenly he didn't feel ecstatic about her clearing Dumbledore's trust test anymore.

"This has the detail description of how to create a Horcrux," stated Hermione, still reading, her expression getting more repulsed the further she read. "I'm sure the Dark Lord received all the information he needed from here. Why keep this in a school library at all?!" she exclaimed.

"Mental." agreed Ron.

"I have never seen this book in any of our libraries, not ours, neither the Malfoy's nor the Greengrass's for that matter. And that is saying something! Between us, we had an extensive collection of books." She continued looking from one to the other. "I think this is a very rare copy, perhaps the others were destroyed over time?"

"Hopefully so and not hidden away. Don't want anymore You-Know-Whos, do we?" Ron joked although the casual mention of the Malfoys irked him more than he wanted to admit. He had almost forgotten that the girl in front of him belonged to one of the richest pureblood families of Britain, someone who would have been in the constant company of the crème of the wizarding élite.

"What now?" he asked noticing that his voice came out rather rough for his liking.

"I have to read this thoroughly and see if I can find some other information once we are back at school. If Dumbledore thought it prudent to put up so much protection on this, it has to be a crucial weapon against You-Know-Who."

A knock on the door almost made the three pull out their wands, engrossed as they were in their own world. Hermione immediately stuck the book back in the shelf, hiding it between a few larger volumes.

"Ron! Harry? Mum says the three of you are to come down this instant," called Ginny, banging loudly. "Come on, its dinnertime!"

"Really?" whispered Hermione as surprised as the boys. Ron shouted back a reply for her to go along, telling her that they would follow shortly.

"Never realised it got so late," agreed Harry and picking himself up from the floor, brushed the backside of his jeans.

"Hermione had a lot to catch up." Mentioned Ron picking up the stack of books they had arranged earlier while Harry pulled the door open for them.

"So you really are the Chosen One, Harry," She added in almost a whisper, looking up at the raven haired boy in admiration.

Ron could hardly gulp down the pang of jealousy that seared his insides. Of course, who would not be in awe of the Boy-Who-Lived, the one who was destined to vanquish the darkest of all wizards? Despite the more sensible part of him that constantly reminded that there was little to be jealous of Harry's horrific destiny, Ron could not help imagining himself in his best mate's place with the girl of his dreams looking at him that way. Heck, even facing the Voldemort would be worth if it would fetch him that look in her eyes...

...

It was well past dinner time, and Molly and Arthur had long since gone off to bed. The boys were sitting opposite a very old chessboard which they had retrieved from the drawers in the living room during their summer stay. The chess pieces that had pulled out their weapons on them at the beginning of their fifth year, was now cleaned off the enchantments and back to their ordinary selves, albeit a lot more vicious than their normal counterparts.

Ron watched his knight beat Harry's castle to a pulp before his attention was again drawn back to the soft murmur of the two girls, who were, sitting on the long couch sipping their hot chocolate and gossiping amongst themselves. He expected Ginny to have pulled Hermione to their room for their heart-to-heart. For reasons unknown, however, she hadn't done so. Perhaps it was Hermione's idea? Maybe she was waiting for her friend to call it a night, and then, the three of them could go back to the discussion which had been cut short earlier. So far, however, Ginny seemed in no way ready for bed; quite the contrary, she was way too awake for his liking, playing the part of an annoying younger sister to the best.

"So you were with Krum after your fourth year?" she asked, and Ron felt blood racing through his temples waiting for the curly-haired witch to answer.

"Well... yes. For a while," She replied in a small, conscious voice and Ron edged his pawn a step ahead, shouting his instructions rudely. The pawn followed his instruction albeit after throwing a specific expletive at him. Ron showed it a rude gesture, and concentrated his attention back at the ongoing conversation instead of the board.

"Oh! Do tell me all about it!" squeaked the younger girl delightfully as Harry's knight swooped down on the pawn causing pieces of stone skittering away on the chessboard.

"Well, he is a gentleman," She replied in almost a shy whisper, which carried loud enough in the otherwise silent room.

"He invited me to spend the summer at his place before he left at the end of our fourth year."

"And?" pursued Ginny.

"I went with my parents," Hermione replied with a small laugh.

"What?!"

"Of course Ginny, they would never leave me alone without a chaperone. And, it was a very formal invitation. Father was going on a business visit, and we went along. Stayed for a week at their manor." She said, and even without looking at her, Ron could feel her blushing. He imagined wringing the neck of the sallow-skinned bastard if he could. The Bulgarian bloke didn't seem very appealing as a Quidditch player anymore, certainly not fit enough to be his favourite.

"Oh come on Hermione, spill the beans already!" grumbled Ginny and Ron had a terrible urge to walk out of the room, perhaps the house for added measure. He stayed put instead, looking at the board in front, ears trained on the conversation behind him.

"Ginny!" she admonished with a small, conscious laugh.

"Oh, don't be such a spoil sport, Hermione! Tell me please! Was he your first?"

There was no answer, but a little squeal from Ginny and Ron was sure he had gone blind with anger. All he wished to do was throw off the board which Harry seemed to be winning anyway and rip off every single furniture of the once grand room. He also wanted to pull the girl in question from her cosy place on the couch, shake her by the shoulder, and demand an explanation. _What the ruddy hell did she mean by he was her first? First what? Snog or shag? Was she still seeing him?_

"Then what happened?" The girls continued, oblivious to the effect their chatting was having on Ron.

"He ... he proposed marriage while we were there." The defeated knight piece that had repaired itself crumbled between his fingers drawing blood.

"He did?!" gasped Ginny. "Wow!"

"My mother declined, though. I was way too young, and they wanted better for me," she replied, and he could no longer tell for sure if she sounded hurt or not, seething as he was, with silent fury.

" _Better?!_ He is an international Quidditch player, for Merlin sake! Was your opinion not sought?" Ron was sure if his sister spoke any longer he would end up smacking her right across her face.

"Marriages in our families are often similar to business deals, Ginny. It is less about the heart, more about the eventual gain, in terms of gold and connections. Their criteria of 'better' were different." For whatever reasons, she sounded perturbed.

"I am their only child, and so were my parents in their respective families. My mother was French, did you know? So, she had this slight inclination towards families that shared similar roots. Also, because the person who I would be wed to, would indirectly inherit the entire Granger wealth, they wanted a family that was an equal in that respect."

"Just to ensure no one married you for the money? Although, to be honest, their preferences are in contradiction to the very idea that they wished you to marry for love." Ginny contemplated.

"I hoped as much, but you are right," Hermione replied with a sad laugh. "I too think, the main reason was that they were reluctant to form ties with anyone who, in their opinion, was lesser in wealth and status " she sighed. "Quite obviously, the person had to be a pureblood and preferably, also a single child, the sole heir to his legacy."

"Wow, that is a quite an extensive list! I wonder if they would ever find someone who matched it all."

"Can you seriously think of no one who fits, Ginny?" Hermione asked in a very small voice.

There was a moment of silence during which Harry's queen posed a checkmate to Ron's king, the first one ever, and Ginny breathed out a small shocked whisper.

"... _Draco_ _Malfoy?!"_

* * *

 _A/N:_ Alright, the proverbial cat is out of the bag, (or I should say cats perhaps). Eagerly looking forward to all your thoughts. Thank you all for reading!


	30. Worthless

**A/n:** Thank you for your reviews. You will find a more elaborate author note at the end of this chapter which I hope, will give you the answers why I am being so horrid to Ron.

 **All characters belong to JKR including my Ron (*sob)**

* * *

 **Chapter 30: Worthless**

He had no clue how he had made his way out of the living area, into his room or onto his bed for that matter. The only thing he could remember was Harry playfully teasing him for his loss and his lack of sportsman spirit. Yeah, that was pretty much right, it was indeed his loss but not the way his best mate thought.

The adjacent bed was still vacant, the door shut as he had banged it on his way to crash on the worn out mattress, hoping for a tiny bit of relief from the constrictions in his chest.

With an arm folded under his head, and watching the ceiling that was much higher than the one at home, he counted the throbbing of his pulse trying to cool down, to ease the pain and the anger that was directed at his own self rather than her.

What had he expected really?

Ever since the fiasco in the hospital wing, he had forced himself to stop his feelings for her. And Merlin knew, he had tried! He had tried being a friend, and just that; tried being annoyed when she acted all smart and brilliant while they worked on their school projects. He wanted to be pissed off when she rolled her eyes at his spelling errors or essays just because they were not up to her standards. He tried being hacked off when she said she feared he would fail because he wasn't working hard enough. He tried to be genuinely irked when she bickered with him over Harry's fascination with the Prince's Potion book.

But at the end of the day, he knew, he was neither annoyed nor angry or pissed off. On the contrary, each of her actions brought her closer to the image he had of hers in his brain for almost a year and a half now, that of a normal girl, brilliant yes, and beautiful too, but normal. A person he could talk to about his hope and fears, annoy just for the fun of it, tease playfully and bicker and still be madly in love with.

He loved that innocent smile and that roll of eyes, he loved how she huffed when he said something stupid in the middle of a serious argument just to annoy her, loved the times when she struggled to remain angry and stop herself from laughing at his joke. He loved how she sat curled on the couch with her book, and many times dozed off as they worked late into the night. Each moment he spent with her being just her friend seemed to pull him closer to her, make him crave for more. There was a moment somewhere during those busy nights when he had come to realise that Hermione did not appeal to him only sexually. It ran deeper. She brought out the caring part in him even when she was being her annoying best. She brought out that Ron in him who actually wanted something so bad this time that he wasn't ready to compromise, wasn't ready to understand that what he was aiming for, was far beyond his reach.

He laughed mirthlessly at the next thought.

He wanted the right to care for her, the right to keep her safe, to love and cherish her until the day he died. He hoped to have a family with her someday. Did that make sense coming from a seventeen-year-old? Perhaps not. But he had thought of it, quite a lot in fact and he held the war responsible for it. It made you think of peaceful times, of what life could be, of a future worth looking forward to. And she was everything he wanted in his future, along with his family and Harry of course. But this was different. He wanted her to be his and his alone.

How did he have the audacity to fall in love with Hermione Granger, and worse expect her to belong to him someday? Was he seriously that ignorant? How could he forget that he, Ronald Weasley, had nothing to offer her? How could he forget the disdain she had expressed a year ago in the school library? Heck, if her mother turned down Viktor Krum, where did he stand? He was a pureblood and well, that was about it. He had no great legacy to carry, not a single galleon to his name, no land and no fame. He was nothing and no matter what he did, just like always, he would never measure up to be good enough, and she, under no uncertain terms, was destined for the best.

Growing up in a family that had more mouths to feed than hands to earn, teaches a lot of hard lessons early on. Ron had learnt them too. There were multiple times when even the smallest of the wishes could not be fulfilled because there wasn't that extra Knut to spare. Growing up, he had learnt to make peace with not getting what he desired most of the time and more often than not, he understood or at least tried to take it in his stride. But understanding doesn't stop the hurt, does it?

Youngest of all, he had learnt to make peace with the fact that rarely would he get anything, tangible or otherwise, as a first hand. It took him a fight with the giant spiders and a trip to the Chamber of Secrets to get his own wand- the birthright of a wizard. It took him fifteen years to get a gift that was not a hand-me-down, his broomstick, and another couple for a new watch. Pigwidgeon given by Sirius was one of the most cherished ones no matter how much he snapped at his little, feathered friend. But that was about it, the only things he owned, the ones that were solely his.

He had learnt what it took to be poor, learned to take the taunts as he walked into the Great Hall clad in his ankle displaying jeans or an atrocious set of dress robes, the subject of many a jeering comment and taunts. Sometimes he rudely retorted back, on other occasions, he pretended not to have heard. It hurt all the same.

He had learnt to accept that year after year, he would have the same maroon jumpers for Christmas, one distinguishable from others only by their state of tatteredness. He had learned that no matter what, he would always be lesser than someone, less smart than Bill, less daring than Charlie, less bright than Percy, less funny than the twins and less adored than Ginny - practically be the base of the bunch. He had learned to accept it and cope with the jealousy that came with it. Maybe it was to prepare him as he was destined to be the best mate of the Boy-who-lived. He loved the boy enough, as much as his own brothers, perhaps a tad bit more, but that friendship had added one more to the already large list of people who mattered more. If there weren't enough people hogging the limelight already, he was pushed further into the shadows by Harry's presence, unintentionally but still, every single time and all the time.

He had made peace with it all, grown to live with it without hard feelings towards his siblings and still love them all. It wasn't their fault that he had just turned out to be the most mediocre Weasley in the entire brood, was it? Even his share of love from their mother was the scrape remains of the others.

And that is why each and every betrayal of Hermione hurt so much.

She was the one whom he had wanted for himself. With her presence, the intense desire to be loved the most, to be admired more than anyone else had taken root somewhere deep within. And he was not willing to be the second best, not this time. No matter how many times she wounded him, he knew, he was deep in this. There was no one else for him, there wouldn't ever be. And no matter how much she hurt him, he would still keep hoping for that place in her life.

He barked out a laugh in the dark as words heard from a while ago floated back to him.

" _My mother declined, though...they wanted better for me..."_

But that was her mother's wish; she doesn't feel that way...

Well, yes, she was different now, wasn't she? Heck, she even seemed to like it here with his family, did say so herself. Maybe her criteria would be different... Not that she would have to follow her family traditions anymore if she didn't want to. No one was present to force her into it anymore, reasoned his heart desperately, and he gave out another low, mirthless chuckle. Who was he fooling? Even if she no longer adhered to the old rules, what did he have to offer her? If she had to choose, she would find plenty of men who would be willing to give a limb to be with her. Even his brother seemed to be much taken by her beauty.

The twins had returned for dinner and Ron had not failed to notice how Fred had specifically and very charmingly apologized to the flustered witch. He was not leaving a stone unturned to woo her, and Hermione was either too shy to voice out her embarrassment or was enjoying the flattering compliments, he didn't know for sure. But he hated it either way. Neither could he ask Fred to stop- not like he had any official right over her, nor could he sit and watch. But he had to endure worse. Ron hated that he had managed to hear every whispering comment Fred had thrown at her, seen every wink and noticed every time her cheeks coloured.

Even if she was not betrothed to Malfoy, Hell be damned, he sure hoped she wasn't, she seemed to have a suitor-in-waiting in Fred. He was smart, talented, funny, and was making cauldrons of gold already at eighteen.

He turned around making the covers slide down onto the floor.

Had he not known that his hopes were futile? He had, and that is why after her latest accusations at him, he had tried to reason with his heart. It had been a constant war between what his heart desired and what his brain knew he was worth. It was driving him insane. The only way he to keep himself in check was the constant muttering of his brain that was perhaps tired of being fooled and hurt over and over again.

 _You can't trust her, not again Ron,_ it kept chanting whenever she was close. He carried the thought as a memento to shield himself against her and the hurt that came with loving her.

And yet, after all these weeks, all it took was Dumbledore's test to break down the walls. He had wanted to take her in his arms and swing her around, telling his brain to go stuff it. She was as honest to their cause as he was, wasn't she? It was impossible a feat but she had done it! If Hermione Granger, a pro-pureblood Slytherin, daughter of You-know-who's supporters could move over to the Light side, could she not fall in love with him? Blimey, he had felt lighter than he had in days. Even the annoying thought of the prank his brothers had pulled had flown off his thoughts. And to think he had been furious about it before as much as he had been to find Hermione in Fred's arms. He was happy that she had not broken a bone with that fall, but still, it should have been him, not Fred. Why didn't he watch out for her? Fred was really playing it well. His insides seared with envy bringing him back to reality again.

Ron was sure he didn't want to know her dream, not even who she fantasised about. Going by the latest information, it could be Krum or even that pale-faced ferret. Blood pounded his veins at the image of the Bulgarian seeker as Ginny's words came floating back to him.

" _Was he your first?"_

He shut his eyes and fisted his fingers till he was sure the cuts from earlier were bleeding again. He really had no clue where the rage was coming from but his head was aching so hard it seemed it would split open. Hermione was his and his alone. If he could, he would rip that bastard from limb to limb for touching her. How could she let him?! It was senseless to feel that way, argued his brain, after all, he was nowhere in the picture when it happened. But no reason seemed to dull the ache.

He was doomed, craving for a girl who was not even his to begin with, doomed craving for a love which he hoped that, was for once, only his.

...

"It's Ron, isn't it? The one you dreamt about?"

It wasn't a question, not really, and Hermione turned so fast in her bed that she almost fell off it. They had got to their room a while ago. Harry was much too excited to have defeated Ron finally, a feat which Ginny claimed had been impossible since Ron had turned nine. It had made Harry ecstatic but he had loitered without following his fuming best-mate, presumably giving the taller boy the time to cool down. Or perhaps, he was simply lingering around to have a moment with Ginny, Hermione wasn't sure. She felt anxious about the way Ron had left and a tad bit upset that Harry had managed to defeat him. She sincerely hoped Ron had heard nothing of her conversation with Ginny. It was, after all, only meant to be a distraction to keep her from asking about the potion induced dream, the memory of which was still giving her goosebumps. But now she was beginning to wonder if Ginny was half as naive and innocent as was making herself be.

"I-I don't know what you are saying..." she replied thanking the darkness of the room for hiding her flaming cheeks.

"Merlin, Hermione, you didn't sound so embarrassed even when you were talking about Krum!" laughed Ginny and by the shuffling sounds, Hermione was sure, she was sitting up, all poised to worm the secret out.

"Of course, you know what I am saying! Or perhaps it's Harry?" the redhead asked sounding a little sceptical.

"WHAT?! NO! Of course not!" she retorted flabbergasted, causing Ginny to burst out in peals of laughter which sounded a little relieved to be honest.

"Then it was about Ron." She declared happily and Hermione chose not to comment, biting her lower lip and snuggling further inside the blanket.

"I thought you fancied Harry." Confessed Ginny making the other witch sit up in surprise.

"Sweet Salazar, no! Why would you even think that?"

"Don't you realise? You talk more to Harry, sit next to him for meals even when it's Ron you have spent more time with. And isn't _everyone_ fascinated with Harry?"

Hermione pondered over the words. Was it how it seemed from the outside?

"I feel comfortable around Harry, Ginny. Feel like he understands, not having a family... losing parents, you know?" she added softly before pausing for a while and continuing again. The redhead did not interrupt possibly eager to hear her out first. "He is almost like a sibling to me. I understand his motivation to finish this so that no one else suffers like we have."

"And... Ron?"

Hermione fidgeted for a while before lying down, not sure how much she could, or should divulge for that matter.

"Hermione?" Ginny called in the dark, her voice low and understanding.

"I'm not sure I am ready to answer that, Ginny... I-I am sorry..."

The younger girl sighed and Hermione could feel her settling down under the covers before she spoke.

"I-I always had this... this thing for Harry, you know?" she said softly.

"Really?" she chuckled and heard Ginny let out a very conscious giggle.

"Yes. Saw him for the first time at King's Cross when they were leaving for Hogwarts. I really thought he was cute. He was literally the first boy who was not my brother or a cousin." She released an exasperated sigh.

"Anyway, got to know after a while that he was _the_ Harry Potter and next thing, Ron writes, he is Ron's best mate! I couldn't stop bugging him to death asking him about Harry when he came down next summer." She laughed softly.

"And then Harry came down to stay with us too, I was horrified and chuffed at the same time, didn't speak to him at all, knocked things down whenever he was around. I was a mess really!"

"Then?"

"Then I came to school, send him a horrible singing Valentine, and ended up being possessed by You-Know-Who, set the Basilisk on the school and was saved by none other than the boy of my dreams himself. It was mortifying. I kind of resigned to the fate after that that Harry would never see me as anything more than his best mate's younger sister. Heck, he didn't even notice me all these years. Even started going around with Cho last year..."

"... the Ravenclaw seeker?"

"Yeah, the same..."

"But.., he isn't seeing her anymore, is he?"

"No... They broke up... I'm glad but doesn't really help me much."

Hermione chuckled softly to herself at Ginny's words.

"You are sure, Ginny? Seems to me that Harry has finally noticed that his best mate's little sister is not so little anymore."

Ginny was silent for a while. "Are you crazy? He is just too kind and polite but that's all. And there are too many girls willing to feed him a love potion. And... I am dating Dean from their year..." she replied ruefully.

"You are?" she asked astonished. It seemed stupid considering the flame was there on both sides.

"I just thought I'd get on with life, you know?"

"You are stupid, pardon my words. And poor Dean! It must be miserable for him to be with someone who is certainly pinning away for another."

"Like it was with Lavender?" even in the dark, Hermione thought she could see the smug look on her companion's face.

"L-Lavender?"

"The girl Ron was dating, don't you know?" she asked teasingly.

"I-I do." How had she forgotten Lavender?! The dream felt all the more wrong now. He was someone else's boyfriend after all.

"I wonder why he broke up with her..." mused Ginny in a tone suggested that she had a very good idea but was just waiting for a reaction.

Hermione's head snapped up from the pillow. "He broke up with her?! I mean, oh... I never knew..." she finished red in the face and Ginny chuckled audibly.

"He did, a week or a couple of weeks prior to his birthday, I reckon. I remember because Lavender was mopping around with Parvati in the common room. A relief if you ask me. Finding my brother attached on the face and limbs of that girl in public has scarred me for life."

Hermione chose not to comment as a vivid memory from the Pensive flashed in front of her eyes. It almost made her forget that Ron had broken up with the girl.

"Hermione?" called Ginny and she answers with a small 'yeah' after a while.

"Do you know why he broke up?" asked the younger girl.

She thought she knew. A pang of guilt ran like a dagger through her chest, Ron had found out about the letter. It was nothing like Ginny was expecting. He was, perhaps, way too messed up to carry on a relationship.

"So there is someone else?" she asked in a mock-cheerful voice hoping to deflect Ginny elsewhere.

"Are you seriously that thick, Hermione?" asked the younger girl. "He stood up against Fred and George for playing that prank on you, you have no clue what that means, do you?"

Hermione let out a brittle laugh. "You know Dumbledore assigned him as my protector, Ron takes that duty very seriously no matter what he truly feels for me."

"Rubbish..."

"No, seriously ...I know, Ginny..." she emphasized biting back the pain. "He has sa-... done things earlier, even when things were pretty messed up between us. I guess that is just how he is. He stands up for others."

"You are just being pessimistic or, is it because... Ron doesn't fulfil any of those criteria?" asked Ginny softly, but the steel in her voice was unmistakable.

"They are not _my_ criteria, Ginny..." replied Hermione neutrally and bade a soft goodnight declaring that she was done with the discussion.

* * *

 _ **A/N:**_ This is going to be a slightly long note and I apologize beforehand for it.

You must wonder why I keep putting Ron through all this, each and every time. I have reasons but I leave it to you to decide if they are justified or not.

Ron, in my opinion, was a character who was plain and simply neglected, not just in the story by his family but by his creator, the one and only JKR herself. She never described in more than a few sentences here and there, how he was the most selfless and noble character in the series. His flaws were flaunted, his merits underplayed. I hate the movies for massacring his character so much that a group of fans who never read the books will never know the true Ron. His flaws were exaggerated, his merits underplayed (hardly mentioned in the movies). I have read a thousand Ron-centric stories and applaud all those authors who had it in their heart and words to give him the true respect he deserves.

Harry has the whole series dedicated to him and even Hermione is laurelled a tad bit more than she deserves. My stories are my way to show what I feel makes Ron, the forgotten hero, the struggling but normal teen and what makes his relationship with Hermione special.

The sixth and the seventh year were crucial to the trio in more ways than one. Just like in real life, they grow up and battle demons which are not just Dark wizards. It's a coming of age period where they discover what eventually defines 'them'. They grow individually through the struggles they face. Perhaps divulging into individual characters would have diluted the crux of the HP series, but here, that is the main track.

Here, in this story, there are struggles, symbolic and otherwise that will build the characters as we proceed towards the Horcrux hunt. There will be stepping stones and pathways of fire they have to cross before they reach the happy ending (yes there is one).

This is not a quick kiss and makeup story and if you are expecting that, I am sorry but you will be very disappointed. I don't see Ron blurting out his feelings or Hermione doing the same at this stage because they are simply not 'there' yet. And no matter how tempting it is to get carried away and fit in an intense snogging (or perhaps shagging) session, that is not how I see the story in my head. If I did that, I would be cheating you as well as myself because then I won't be giving you the story I want to share.

Thank you for all your feedback, I understand your desperation to see Ron happy (believe me-I want it just as much) but I apologize for not giving in to the temptation of solving things for him and Hermione right away. It will come but in due time.


	31. Instinct

**A/N:**

Thank you all for the support you provided with your words. Really means a lot. I hope this story meets the expectations it has built for itself.

This warning might be coming in a bit too late but now that I have kind of wrapped the plot of the upcoming chapters, I feel it's important to keep you all notified that the story is going to get extremely angsty and dark once the Hunt begins. Please be braised.

When I wrote that note in my previous chapter, this is not what I expected would happen. I was trying hopelessly to add two plot lines but something was still missing and hence the delay. Then _this_ happened.

* * *

 **All Characters belong to JKR.**

 **Chapter 31: Instinct**

She looked around the cavernous kitchen where multiple pots and pans were put to work under Molly's expert ministrations. Ginny, Tonks, the boys and herself were helping around with setting of the table that would soon accommodate most of the Weasley family and the members of the Order. It was the last day at the Grimmauld Place, and Hermione felt a pang of sadness at the thought that early the next morning they would be back at the school, where she would yet again, be confined to her chambers. She would miss Ginny and Molly but most of all she would miss being a part of a large colourful family.

Carrying a large pile of plates with her wand, she crossed Tonks, who was made to handle the cutlery, as Ginny had earlier told her that the young Auror was quite prone to little accidents. She looked slightly better than the first time Hermione had seen her, and if her deductions were correct, she assumed, the mystery man would be their ex- Defence Against the Dark Arts professor, Remus Lupin.

Meeting Professor Lupin, or Remus as he had insisted on being called, was a little embarrassing. She remembered how she had figured out that he was a Werewolf, after Professor Snape's DADA lesson back in their third year. It had taken her only one more month to match his absence with the cycle of the moon to know that she was right. She had seriously considered telling the others, but eventually only confided in Daphne. Together the two girls had debated about disclosing their findings to their Head of the House. Daphne had been much too worried about their fate in case it became known that they were the ones who had identified his secret. It was a well-known fact that Werewolves were foul, vicious creatures and Hermione had no intentions whatsoever to set the creature on her trail. In the end, they had divulged their finding to Professor Snape, who, had suggested them to write to their parents about their suspicion.

But she hadn't.

It was not because she pitied the infected Professor. Honestly, the infection was an abomination, not to forget that he appeared to be shaggy and much too poor for her liking. But despite all of that, she couldn't deny that she would be sad to see him go. He was, after all, a very good teacher, and she had really learnt a lot that year. It had been an intense internal debate with herself where the zeal to benefit from his vast expertise had won over. She told herself that keeping the secret intact was actually in her best interest. There could be many occasions from him to attack her in the future if she cost him his job. And seriously, they had survived almost a whole year without a single Werewolf related incident, hadn't they? Surely, the Headmaster would have put necessary precautions in place.

She realised now that the secret had been released after all, and the whole episode saddened her immensely on hindsight. Remus Lupin was seriously one of the most sensible, kind and amiable men she had ever met and she could see what Tonks saw in the much older man. If her assumption was correct, the ex-professor was equally enthralled by the young witch but most likely refuting her approach because of his infliction.

She had already shared her assumption with Ginny and the boys and had got to know that Molly was still hopeful that her eldest son, Bill would find the Auror fascinating. That seemed to be more than a little difficult as the ruggedly handsome Curse Breaker was madly in love with the part Veela and Beauxbaton Champion, Fleur Delacour. It still amazed Hermione how many fantastic people were part of the Weasley family, and there was no doubt that the Weasley Seniors had passed on some seriously strong genes to each of their children, both in terms of looks and talent. Speaking of which, the one Weasley she found the most attractive had pulled up a chair and was sitting alongside Harry at the finally set up table.

Ever since the evening when Harry had defeated him, Ron had seemed a little aloof to her. He still spoke and made jokes like always but there was some change that she could sense, a hint of sadness that seemed to envelop him all the time. However, in the constant company of so many people, the three of them had not found a single chance to go back to their discussion on Horcruxes, and she could not really decide if he was retreating into his shell again. At first, she would have attributed his mood to the unexpected loss at chess although, to be honest, it would be darn right immature on his part. But in the two intervening days, Ron had checkmated Harry every single time they had played. So she had mentally struck off that to be the reason. The bespectacled boy had unsuccessfully tried around twenty times so far to work up the magic again, perhaps in an attempt to show that it wasn't a fluke win but all in all, it had only served to prove otherwise. Ron had practically beaten his own record at defeating the Chosen One in a progressively lesser amount of time the more they played. It was only this afternoon that a frustrated Harry had packed up the board and declared that he was only going to play Exploding Snaps from now on.

Hermione bit back her smile and took a seat next to Ginny, who was sitting on the other side from her two friends and a few spaces ahead on the table. People trickled in slowly and soon the table was full of the familiar sounds of food passing around and talks that ranged from the Order's plans and the latest information about Voldemort's increasing power to the news of more deaths and disappearances.

But somehow still with all that was dark and gloomy, Hermione could sense the resilience, the hope that emanated from the people all around her. She looked around herself. In some strange way, this odd assortment was her friends and family now. Her past, the life she had seen seemed to have faded away in the background somewhere.

Her eyes lingered as always on the tall and fair young man who seemed to be busy talking to the people sitting closer to him. She could hardly hear what they were saying but noticed his brows furrow in concern. She took a deep breath wondering what it would be once they were on the other side of the war. It was a far away thought and the more she knew and thought about it, the more it seemed less likely that all of them would see through it. A shiver ran up her spine at the thought. How many of them would survive to tell the tale? And what if the Light side lost? What would become of the survivors then? She knew enough to know that the Dark Lord and his minions would be least likely to dole out pardon statements. In fact, death would be more merciful than most of the other 'games' they would most likely make up to play with their prisoners.

The world was already reeling trying to deal with the atrocities of one madman who was hell bent on eradicating the ones he didn't see fit to live in his regime, and if that thought wasn't daunting enough, there were four more fragments of him hidden somewhere in this world.

It was at that precise moment that the true enormity of the task that lay in front of them hit her. She had been chosen to fight too, chosen and given a chance to take revenge for the murder of her parents and the life that was snatched away from her. But as Dumbledore had said, neither this choice nor this path was going to be easy. Perhaps so for these brave-hearts who sat all around her; they had chosen to be in this fight willingly, each one of them. But she had been thrust into it in an ugly twist of fate. Her very identity that was her safeguard had been the reason why she had been pushed right in the middle of an inferno and there was no way out.

Yes, the Headmaster had told her that she could choose to sit on the sidelines, but would she be able to do that now? She breathed out slowly and looked at her two friends. They were the forerunners of this revolution. Yes, Dumbledore was their general, but the hope of the wizarding community lay on the young shoulders of Harry, who had been marked by the Dark Lord himself to bear this colossal burden. And then there was Ron, the one who was not chosen by fate, but who had stepped up to back the marked man for years. He was at a greater risk than Harry because while the Dark Lord intended to be the one to kill Harry, Ron would be the one who would be easily blasted off by anybody from the other camp in their attempt to capture Harry. And knowing Ron, he would take the curse for Harry if need be, and not think twice. Hermione could feel panic flow through her at the thought. _Not Ron, please..._

She took a deep haggard breath while twisting the napkin in her lap. The room wasn't feeling so light, cosy and noisy anymore. This was an enormous responsibility. What if she was not cut out for it? She wasn't sorted into Gryffindor after all. Her basic instinct had always been to save herself. What if when the time came, her instinct would drive her to flee or worse, move over to the other side to save her skin? Her trembling hand grasped her goblet and brought it her lips, but her hands were shaking so much that she ended up spilling the most on herself. Thankfully, everyone around her was busy talking to someone or the other, so she cleaned herself up and told Ginny that she was going upstairs to use the loo. Without wasting any more time, Hermione left the room as quickly and inconspicuously as she possibly could.

...

Hermione ran up to the old, familiar room on the third floor, suddenly wishing for the time when she was almost a prisoner, devoid of choices and responsibilities, hidden away for her own safety. Pushing open the window and gripping hard onto the bars, she felt the shivering of her hands reach out to her entire body. She held on tighter to prevent from falling while she breathed deeply through her nose. The cold wind bit at the exposed skin but she held on nonetheless.

She wasn't strong enough for this, Dumbledore was wrong. Neither was she brave enough to face death nor did she have the strength to see Ron and Harry off as they went away to fight once more, this time with much less guarantee of return. Frustration for the situation trickled out in the form of tears to pool in her eyes, and once they were filled to the brim, they slid down her cheeks. She made no attempt to wipe them off or arrange her hair that was blowing all around her face. Instead, she watched the few people who were braving out the chill and couples that walked below in the streets holding hands and smiling contently. They were completely unaware of the storm that was building all around them and she felt furious at the muggles. Their entire world was on the brink of collapse, and here, they were still hiding away from the people who were doing nothing to help the situation, although they were at equal risk, just because those morons did not believe in magic, just because of that idiotic Statute of Secrecy.

She cringed at her thoughts a moment later. These hapless people were not even aware... They did not even know that each of them, their families, their children and all their loved ones were in grave danger, they were not even given a chance to defend themselves...

Hermione finally let go of her hold and collapsed down on the ground shivering with sobs and cold as the chilly gust entered the room and made it steadily colder.

...

Ron walked up the stairs gripping his wand tightly and telling himself that she would be just around somewhere. But so far, all the rooms and washrooms he had checked had been empty. There was no logical reason but he knew she would have gone back to her old room. Why would she do that in the middle of dinner is what he could not figure out. There were washrooms in the ground floor as well so the only reason he could think of, was to research the Horcruxes. But still, that was just plain odd.

He reached the third floor and crossed the other rooms to knock softly on the familiar door. There was no response and, this time, he was actually worried. He shoved aside the thought of any danger and pushed the door open, immediately struck with the chill of the room, and the small figure slumped on the floor next to the wall, close to the window. She was barely visible in the dim light floating from the candles high above on the ceiling.

"Hermione?" he called softly and was surprised at how fearful it sounded.

Closing the door behind him, he first shut the window and then cast a strong warming spell around them. Lighting up a few candles on the lower bracket, he proceeded to kneel down next to the girl and noticed that she was shaking vigorously.

"Hey...You okay?" he asked and placed a tentative hand on her shoulder. She was cold, very cold.

"Hermione?" he called a little more urgently this time and pulled away her hands that were wrapped around her knees. Her face was buried in the crook of her arms, and he noticed that she was practically freezing all over.

"Hey..." he called again and, this time, placed his palm on the sides of her head to lift her face up to him. The very next instant she pulled herself into his chest and the sobs that wracked her body felt like his own. The cold swept from her body to his and his heart gave a lurch as his arms remained hanging in mid air waiting for his brain's command to react. It would be way too easy to wrap her in his arms, to move those curly locks away from her face and bury his face in them. It would be way too easy to fill her in his warmth and wipe out her tears. Way too easy... but that wasn't his place, was it?

Lying awake on his bed that night, he had come to a discovery that had shattered whatever little was left of him. He knew she was attracted to him even if it was only limited to being merely just physical. But he had also realised that it had nothing to do with him, nothing to do with Ron Weasley. It could have been just anybody in his position. Closed away in her room, and devoid of all human contact, she had obviously sought out the only person she had, as her companion. The attraction, if any, was based simply on the situation. And now, when those restrictions were no longer applicable, her heart would slowly be her own again and function more realistically. As she came to terms with her improved situation, she would soon be disillusioned and seek out a person whom she would have chosen under normal circumstances. The more he thought about it, the more it made sense. Did she not speak to Harry more often? Did she not always take a seat next to him? Their comfort level with each other was very natural and very open for all to see. And why would it not be? Harry wasn't the one who had threatened to rape her... he was.

Now that she knew she was free to choose, Ron Weasley would be no where in the picture because of everything he had done to her, because of everything that he was.

Ron did not believe in the hocus-pocus that was Devination, but he knew Destiny was a true thing. His best mate was a living proof after all, and so was he- the One Who Was Forever Destined to Lose.

He released a quiet sight and gently pulled her away from himself.

"You are cold, Hermione. What happened?" he asked as his hands remained on her upper arms.

She tried to cling back to him and struggled against his hold. After a while he allowed her to take what she wanted from him and she collapsed back into his chest pressing her face in the crook of his shoulder and fisting the flannel shirt at his chest. But his hands remained at his sides and rose up only to cast a warming spell on her.

The floor, although carpeted, was still rough and hard and his knees hurt perched in that odd angle with most of Hermione's weight pressed on him. He assumed that their position would not be very comfortable for her either. The old, threadbare carpet was not even half as plush as the one in her chamber back at Hogwarts.

"Let's get you on the bed and then you can tell me what's wrong, alright?" he said softly and she only nodded slightly in reply.

"Great... come on, get up..." he added, holding her gently at the shoulder and pushing himself up on his feet while pulling her along.

He guided her to the bed and made her sit, but as she was still holding on to him tightly, it meant that he had to take his place on the bed too. This felt way too personal and he wanted to get away to save whatever little was left of him.

After a while, she edged sideways to face him while her folded leg rested partially on his. He knew Hermione would never sit so close to him if she was not so anguished, and he tried not to think or feel too much. The breath he released came out shaky and he glanced at her downcast face for a while before speaking.

"What happened?" he asked and placed his palm tentatively on hers, rubbing the back of it gently with his thumb.

Hermione looked up at him with bloodshot eyes and he had the insane urge to wipe her tears off. He stifled a small laugh at the sight of her nose that was so pink that it was almost red now. Instead of giving into either of the urges, he conjured a handkerchief and handed it to her. She took it with a soft 'thanks' and he looked away as she wiped her eyes and softly blew her nose.

"I-I am not made for this R-Ron." She managed after a while and he turned back to face her.

"... not made for what exactly?" he asked.

"For this!" she replied in anguish as she threw up her arms and fresh tears rolled down.

"I am not a hero, Ron ... This-This fight is huge. And we are barely of age. The D-Dark Lord is way too powerful. A-And I am not brave enough to face h-him..."

He wasn't sure what he was supposed to say but he understood her doubts and fear at least.

"No one is born a hero, Hermione..." he replied.

"You all are..." she responded looking back at him in awe and what he thought was admiration and laughed a little sadly to himself.

"I am no hero. Yes Dumbledore, Harry, Lupin, Mad-eye, they all are. But there are others like us in this too, normal folks. But you are not less. You are the Brightest of our age, Hermione."

She huffed at that. "What good will all my intelligence do, if I am not brave enough to fight, Ron?"

"What makes you think it's all about the fight? Do you see my Mum fighting? She stays back and takes care of the lot. I think that is how she contributes to the war. And Madame Pomfrey? She tends to the ones who are hurt. We all play our roles in this and that is what matters, standing together."

She nodded half-heartedly and he continued.

"Your intelligence is a great asset, Hermione. You can help us solve this problem of Horcruxes and if you don't want to get into the duel, you don't have to. I promise, I'll keep you safe. But you know what? You are fantastic and a very powerful witch. Your wand work is awesome, and honestly, I'd love to see some of those death eaters face your hexes." He grinned softly and noticed a hint of a smile break through her tears.

"And what if I buckle under pressure, Ron?" She asked stifling a sob. _What if I end up betraying you all?_ She finished fearfully in her heart.

"Don't we all have that fear?" he smiled. "You've passed three tests set by Dumbledore, Hermione. Your heart doesn't want that anymore." He added softly but with conviction.

"T-Three test?" she inquired in surprise.

"Yes... Harry and I assume he used Legilimency on you the night he told you what You-Know-Who planned for you." He told her and thought that, for a minute, her shock was overshadowed by embarrassment.

"M-My ward in the infirmary was set up with protective spells." He said very consciously. "That you were able to enter, proved that you have no inclination towards the dark side and you know about the book already." He finished a little quickly and shifted to increase the distance between them.

"We'll lose people, Ron." She said with a sniff and held on to his hand.

He always tried not to think about it, but to assume that the whole lot of them would survive without a scratch was being a little too hopeful.

"I know." He said.

"W-What if something goes wrong and...and we lose?" she said and as she looked up he could see the terror in her eyes.

"Then we gather the remaining and fight again till we win or die fighting." He replied with a small shrug. He didn't want to be so blunt about it but there was no other answer to her question anyway. She let out a sharp cry and crashed into his arms again.

"Hey..." he said and pushed her away firmly but not rudely.

"It won't come to that. That's why we have got to crack these Horcruxes, remember? Harry can do it. You believe in him, don't you?" he asked, even as the small parts of his broken heart twisted painfully inside.

"Yes... I-I do." She replied and he managed a weak smile.

"Hold on to that." He told her. "Now come on, wash your face and let's go downstairs. It's been a while." He added.

She wiped her eyes and bit her lower lip before looking at him.

"I believe in you, Ron. You know that, right?" she said in an almost whisper while her cheeks coloured and Ron had an urgent desire to flee lest he got wrapped in a sense of pointless desire again.

"I do." He replied instead.

"And you know I want you to be safe, right? I want you not to jump in the line of fire just to prove you are a Gryffindor. Will you please promise me that?"

He looked at her tear stained face and messy locks.

"I'll try and be safe, but that goes for all of us doesn't it?"

"Not the way it does for you, Ron." She replied and he laughed a little at the irony of the whole situation.

"I am not going to be a sacrificial goat and give myself up just like that, if that is what you are hinting at."

"You know exactly what I am hinting at, Ron. Promise me you won't jump to take a curse meant for someone else if it comes to that."

"You know I can't promise you that, Hermione. We all have our roles remember? That is my role- to keep Harry safe and now that it seems you are in this mess as much as we are- to keep you safe as well. "

She looked at him as if on the verge of saying a hundred things and after a few minutes, he turned away.

"Go, wash up." He said firmly and a while later there was a soft click of a door closing behind him.

* * *

 _ **A/N:**_ There was a Guest review for Chapter 16, where the reader had asked how Hermione had not divulged Lupin's secret back in their sixth year. I honestly had no answer for it at the time, but I hope this chapter explains it.

On another note, I know Hermione was anything but doubtful about pursuing what is right in canon and I know her fear is OOC. But I really felt being a Slytherin and having had an extremely protected and secure upbringing would affect certain aspects of her as a person. Do let me know what you think.

As always, thanks for reading.


	32. Almost But Not Yet

**A/N:** The chapter title says it all. We are almost at the end of their sixth year and something major is going to change in the next chapter. I hope you all understand that because this story roughly follows the canon timeline, certain portions have to be weaved in to close the logic loops of the story. At times these very portions are making it difficult for me to write a more faster paced chapter.

 **All Characters, props and places mentioned in the story are JKR's.**

* * *

 **Chapter 32: Almost But Not Yet**

"YOU USED SCETUMSEMPRA ON DRACO?!"

If he was not so morose after seeing the effect of the Prince's seemingly harmless spell on Malfoy, or the subsequent detentions Snape had handed him, Harry would have perhaps found Hermione's expressions hilarious, but that was not the case. He looked away sheepishly from her and glanced at Ron instead. The redhead seemed to have taken the news rather casually, and appeared to be more annoyed with their female friend and her outburst rather than at Harry.

"I... well... I had no clue what it would do." Harry replied ruefully.

"That's even worse! You used an untried curse on Draco! You could have killed him, Harry!" He noticed she had collapsed back on the couch but had not run out of steam as she looked at him with a varied set of emotions playing on her face.

"Would you prefer that Harry was the one wounded, or killed perhaps? That ferret didn't die, though, did he? "

Harry turned around to his best mate, thankful for the support and noticed Ron had turned away and was busy flicking the base of his sneakers with the tip of a broken quill. For some strange reason, he sounded genuinely upset.

Hermione glanced at the taller boy and seemed to breathe in a few times before speaking in an unnaturally calm voice.

"No, I am certainly relieved that Harry is safe but Draco really could have died." She said looking directly at Ron who did not bother to look at her and after a while, she turned towards Harry instead, "Sectumsempra is a dark curse, Harry. I don't know who invented it but I can tell you that it is quite popular with the Death Eaters."

"So, are you worried about Harry using a dark curse or is it because the target was dear old 'Draco'?" Harry turned in surprise at his best mate who had finally looked up and was eying the witch with some kind of a blatant challenge. He noticed she furrowed her brows in confusion before straightening her back, and when she spoke a fire seemed to emit from her eyes.

"I am concerned about Harry, Ron. This could have led to him being expelled." She retorted back icily, and Harry realised that with these two, he could never quite know what was to come next.

Sometimes they would be all nice and shy and seemed to get along fine. But then out of the blue, either or both would flare up, and breathed fire like angry dragons. Honestly, he had no clue how he would survive with these two volatile and temperamental humans, who seemed to be just as likely to die for each other as they were to be the ones to kill each other off.

Somehow the news of a massive showdown with his arch-nemesis had turned into a glaring contest between his two friends. Harry knew Ron hated Draco, and honestly, their bad history was reason enough. But he wasn't aware that the hatred ran deep enough for Ron to wish the Slytherin dead, even if it was at Harry's hands.

"Well... that was stupid of me, really Hermione," He said quickly to pacify one of the two. "You were right. I shouldn't have. It was just that it was the first spell that popped up in my head at that moment." He replied earnestly and she quit her glaring game with Ron to turn at him, eyes softening ever so slightly.

"What happened to the book?" she asked pointedly, completely ignoring the taller Gryffindor, who was still huffing in the background for some reason.

"I had to get rid of it." He replied morosely.

Harry wasn't too eager to tell her about hiding it in the Room of Hidden Things. He hoped he would be able to locate the place correctly with that ugly bust with the wig and the tiara that he had stuck on its head. Harry didn't tell her, but he had every intention to retrieve it back once he was sure Snape was off his trail. The Potion master had known about it, he was sure of it.

"And how did you do that?" she inquired suspiciously.

"I hid it away," He replied in an offhanded manner wishing for Ron to intervene and draw the conversation elsewhere which, surprisingly, the ginger did.

"If you can stop bothering about Draco dearest, can we please go back to the work at hand?" the taller boy asked pointing to the enormous number of books they were currently researching. "I need to get out of this place, I need a break," he added grimly as an afterthought.

They were listing out a set of useful spell that Hermione had insisted they practice. It had been that way from the time they had returned back from their Easter Holidays. For reasons unknown to Harry, ever since their return, the brunette had poured herself in preparation. She had made them issue NEWT level books for defence and duelling spells apart from researching protective charms and enchantments. For herself, she had set up a goal to learn more about healing magic which she was absolutely sure would come in handy. And that wasn't all. She insisted on them learning and practicing these newfound spells on a regular basis.

Hermione appeared to be rigorously preparing for the upcoming war, and while that was actually true and very appropriate, it made him extremely edgy all the time. There were times when he wished he had a normal life. He wished he would have the option of being worried about just the simple things in life, getting the girl he hopelessly fancied, Quidditch and perhaps a little about the upcoming exams. However, Hermione's strict schedule had ensured that there was no chance of him getting lost in a wishful bubble of ignorance he so craved.

But still, despite everything, Harry was thankful for her presence and could see why Dumbledore had wanted her as an ally. Hermione was exceptionally resourceful and gave a proper direction to his and Ron's rather wayward ways. She was extremely focused and ensured they were too, at times nagging till he obliged just to make her stop.

As days had passed, Hermione's silent demure, which he assumed was the result of an awful start with Ron and the unexpected loss of her family, had given way to reveal her true personality. She was awfully bossy and was making the boys work harder than they ever had. While it was all for the good, it was also tiring because neither did they have her exceptional intellect nor were they stuck inside a chamber devoid of other duties and tasks; Harry as his Team Captain and Ron as a Prefect. Their exams were also round the corner which meant they were practically half dead by the time they were done with most of the things on their schedule every night. This new change or rather a reversion of her personality had also caused another hiccup. While earlier they were keen to keep their mutual attraction under wraps and were tiptoeing around each other, the work pressure now meant that both Ron and Hermione were back to being their normal selves and bickered constantly. Almost every other night, Harry was sure Ron grumbled under his breath that he was not going back to her chamber to follow her instructions anymore. However, every night the tall freckled young man was the first to get to their practice sessions.

As he looked at the couple sitting sprawled on the floor, who had gone back to their task with a definite sense of tension between them, he realized that most of Hermione's stubbornness stemmed from a fear. This world was new to her. While he and Ron had been dealing with Voldemort for years, it was the first time for her when learning magic was more than about getting the perfect score. It was a struggle to stay alive now, a fight with an evil, the depth of which she knew from personal experience. He also knew that she was irked on having lost the chance to ask Dumbledore a million questions she had regarding the Horcruxes. The headmaster had cancelled his appointment with her the second time and eventually her Apparition lessons had been taken by Professor McGonagall. Even Harry hadn't received a single session with his mentor since the time the old wizard had promised him that he would be a part of the next Horcrux hunt when it was found. He looked at the timepiece and let out a small groan.

"I'll see you guys later, I've got the detention with Snape," He grumbled waiting for Hermione to come back with a remark how it was his own fault. Thankfully, however, she shook her head and sighed softly. It was no secret that, handing a detention to a Gryffindor was Snape's personal equivalent of Christmas, more so when the said Gryffindor was Harry. Ron gave him a comforting pat on the back and mouthed 'Later' as the bespectacled boy lifted himself up from the comfortable couch and dragged himself for a long session of humiliation.

...

The door behind Harry had barely closed when Hermione dropped her quill and turned towards Ron.

"What's wrong with you?" she asked irritated.

Over the days, she had become much more comfortable around him although every now and then, his gaze caused her to fumble for words. Yes, he still made her nervous, but not today. At times, she could not decide if she knew him at all. One day he would be caring and comforting, helping her deal with her deepest fears and then all of a sudden he would flair up for no apparent reason. She paid no attention to their bickering because it eased the tension between them and she knew Ron felt the same about their harmless banter. But his comment from earlier was different. It was said to hurt, both words and tone and she glared at him, unwilling to back down.

"Ron, answer me," She said more bravely than she felt as he continued pretending to concentrate on the book which she was sure he was not reading anyway. At her words, he shut the large volume with a loud snap, taking her by surprise.

" _What_ do you want to know?" he asked glaring at her with uncontrolled rage and then suddenly looked away as if fighting some great inner turmoil.

"Ron you can't do this!" Her tone had mellowed down to a mixture of a complaint and frustration. "You can't come to me one day and assuage my fears about my true loyalties and question the same thing yourself the next day!" she said exasperatedly. To annoy her further, he continued to look away without bothering to answer.

Huffing audibly, she half crawled to sit directly in front of him.

"Tell me, and no, I am not taking your silence as an answer." He finally looked at her, and she was shocked by the pain that glinted in those blue irises.

"What is there between you and Malfoy? Last year, he asked you to play with my emotions and you did. Why?" The strength that had made her seek the confrontation lapsed at his words, and she literally moved back a few paces, looking away ashamed.

"Ron... I have told you I am sorry." She mumbled softly.

"Your apology is not what I am asking for." He retorted icily.

It was strange how he could make her nervous in an instant. She could feel his eyes on her face, and cursed herself for picking up this fight which would surely sever the normalcy they had established in their relationship. Biting her lower lip, and moistening them thereafter, she took a deep breath before speaking,

"He...He was a friend..." she said, her eyes downcast but then willed herself to look at his face, "I swear, I was more concerned about Harry getting expelled. Don't doubt me, please."

"Just a friend?" he asked sceptically, and suddenly something clicked in her head, and she blushed under his gaze.

"I-I am not engaged to him, Ron... Our parents wanted it, b-but it didn't happen." Well, it would have if her parents would have been alive for a little longer but he didn't need to know that. Her heart was doing mad flips inside her chest at the thought that, he, Ron Weasley was jealous about her assumed relationship with someone. A smile threatened to break out, and she looked away to hide it from him.

There were sounds of someone stumbling up, and she turned around to find his mask back in place.

"Never mind... It's not really my place to know, is it? I was just wondering if you feel any loyalty towards people who were earlier your close associates. It will be risky for all of us. I am sorry for snapping like that." He managed consciously. She could have groaned in frustration, and hence, chose not to comment.

"I am done for the day, Hermione... I'll see you tomorrow." He said hurriedly and left without further ado.

...

It was precisely two weeks from that day when Ron came in through his door and flopped down straight on the couch next to her without a word. Hermione, who was busy rereading the Secrets of the Darkest Arts, dropped it on the small table next to her and turned to him. Thankfully, they had managed to cover up for that uncomfortable incident by pretending that it never happened. She eyed him carefully while he gazed at the fire ahead.

"Congratulations for winning the Quidditch Cup," She said half-heartedly. Well, she might have changed sides, but house pride was not a thing of past yet.

"Harry kissed G-Ginny," He replied to her in a monotone as if still trying to process the information.

"What! Ah! Finally!" she gasped happily, and he turned to her, visibly surprised.

"You are not... upset?" he asked eying her in confusion.

"What?!" she asked taken aback. "Why will I be upset? I have seen them eyeing each other all through the holidays! I was waiting for either of them to do something about it ever since Ginny broke up with Dean after Easter." She said while he continued to look conflicted.

"How do you know about their breakup?"

"We have been writing to each other ever since we got back. We have a set of parchments that only the two of us can read." She explained. It was good to have a girl best friend, and Hermione, seeing that she would not be able to meet Ginny while at school, had had the ingenious idea the last day at Grimmauld Place.

"Oh..." he replied, and she watched him closely for the true reason, or perhaps reasons, for his distress.

"What is it, Ron?" She asked finally, as he leaned back, his long torso inclined on the couch, and longer legs extended on the rug in front of him.

"I don't know..." he muttered softly, "Harry is my best mate but..."

"Ginny is your little sister?"

"Yeah..."

She smiled to herself. Did he know how endearing she found him when he acted like a protective brother for Ginny?

"It's Harry, Ron," She told him softly.

"I know, Hermione." He breathed back, and with a sigh, lifted himself up only to collapse back on the floor while resting his back on the couch this time.

"It's Harry... He has a destiny to fulfil, an evil madman to defeat... His life is not so easy, not for him and neither for the people close to him..."

She could easily make out how conflicted he was, and perhaps a tad bit annoyed at himself too for questioning his friend's right to be happy.

"Do you think this will endanger Ginny?" she asked in a small voice, and he chose not to reply for a while. She sat curled up on the couch looking at his flaming hair and biting down the desire to run her fingers through them as he continued to gaze at the fire.

"I know, if anyone has the right to be happy it's Harry, but he can be a sacrificing git at times. I know she has fancied him for years... I don't want him to break her heart."

"You don't know that Ron... "

He blew out softly in exasperation.

"Even if we all survive the catastrophe that lies in front of us, and they are still together, people will assume she is a fortune hunter, enticing the Chosen One for name and fame." He said finally, and she was jolted with the words that hit close to home.

"Why would you say that? They really like each other!" she exclaimed, and he laughed mirthlessly at her words, but she continued. "You won't find a better guy for Ginny, Ron, and you know that. Harry really feels deeply for her."

"No one really cares about feelings, Granger," He said as he tilted his head sideways very slightly to meet her eyes, for once, allowing his mask to slide down.

"People see what they want to see." He added softly before turning away to continue gazing at the flames.

"For them, we, the penniless Weasleys, will be the fortune hunters who would have trapped the famous Harry Potter for his money and fame. I have heard that for years, I don't want Ginny to face it too." He finished while Hermione cringed at his confession. It hurt to think that even till a year back, she too was a part of these 'people'.

"People who know you, who know Ginny and your family will never say that, and as far as the others are concerned, I guess they are not worth paying attention to." She hoped that he would realise that she honestly believed what she said. He turned towards her once again and then nodding softly, released a deep sigh and closed his eyes.

Hermione didn't know what made her do it. Maybe the confessions which she was sure he had not shared with anyone or perhaps the pain that she had seen in his eyes earlier, but before she could comprehend her own actions, she had inched closer to him. She placed a tentative hand on his shoulder, feeling him twitch slightly at her touch. Even as he opened his eyes in surprise, she angled herself closer still and guided his head to her lap. She knew this was way beyond the line of their personal spaces, and every second she expected him to snap at her or move away. To her great astonishment and relief, he did neither, rather closed his eyes as she ran her fingers through his hair in a gentle caress. She had never seen him as peaceful as he remained there with her fingers playing gently in his silky hair. Her heart was thudding madly in her chest asking her to bend and press her lips lightly onto his. Just an initiation from her end and she hoped Ron would take over from there. Wouldn't that be an easy way of telling him everything that she was struggling to keep inside her? For once she did not care for his reaction, he might break her heart but, at least, he would know... She was still lost in her own thoughts when he spoke up.

"Where is this going, Hermione?" he asked ever so softly. He opened his eyes, and as the mesmerizing blue met her own, she realised she had lost herself to him a little more.

"I don't know, Ron..." she managed to whisper back as her fingers stopped their ministrations but remained interlocked in his hair.

He continued to watch her, and eventually his eyes began taking in her face in what she could only describe as a loving manner before they stopped on her lips. Her whole body was aware of their proximity now, aware that she was giving herself to him wordlessly, and that he knew what was happening. A space of her heartbeat when she hoped and prayed that he would seal the deal, but that moment passed, and he moved away as if the very same proximity was tearing him apart.

"I shouldn't be doing this," He said in a rugged voice as he scooted further and Hermione could hardly cut out the whimper that escaped from her lips.

"Yes, you shouldn't be doing _this_ ," She whispered almost to herself, looking at her now vacant lap, and avoiding him altogether. She heard him coming closer and looked resolutely at her fingers to avoid him seeing the tears of frustration and resentment that clouded her vision.

Ron kneeled down in front of her, and his hands came up as if to lift her face up to meet his eyes but then he seemed to think better, and dropped them his to his sides instead.

"This will go nowhere, Hermione and you know it. There is nothing that this will give you." He managed slowly, painfully.

For whatever reasons, she neither replied nor met his eyes, and he continued in a scratchy voice. "We have to finish this assignment and then, hopefully, life will go back to where it was. You will be back where you truly belong and I, well..."

"And will that make you happy?" she asked, angrily wiping off her eyes with the back of her hand and meeting his pained and surprised eyes with her own.

"Sorry?"

"Will you be happy if life goes back to where it was before all of this, Ron? If we go back to where _we_ were before all of this?" she asked grinding her teeth in annoyance at his stubbornness.

He fumbled for a minute as she held his gaze, and then, breathing slowly through his nose, he seemed to come to some kind of a resolution.

"Yes," he said softly, and Hermione could barely stop the anguish from displaying blandly on her face and in her eyes. Whether it bothered him or not was difficult to say. She wanted to say a lot of things, to argue, to plead but he had hurt her pride and heart with that one word, rendering her speechless.

"That is how it should be, Hermione, each one in their rightful place. I am sorry..." He said as he stood up without breaking her gaze, and without another word, went out of the door, looking every bit as defeated as she herself felt.

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 _ **A/N:**_ One of you had asked how Hermione has lost that fire she embodies. Well, she hasn't, and this chapter which was sketched out long ago, was an answer to that. However, I always assumed that the realization of truth, both about her parents' death and the challenges that lie in front of her now, would get to her in the beginning. As I have said, she is not a Gryffindor but a Slytherin and everything about the war is new and out of her comfort zone, which I imagined, would affect her to quite an extent.

 **Thanks to each one of you for reading.**


	33. The Breakdown - Part 1

**A/N:** Thank you all for those reviews, dear readers. I can see that the previous chapter, which was from Hermione's perspective (the second part, obviously), has left quite a few of you confused about Ron, which is exactly how I wanted it to be.

Bear with me, I promise you'll realise why not knowing all of Ron's true feelings is important for the flow of the story.

 **All Character rights belong to JKR**

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 **Chapter 33: The Breakdown – Part 1**

He stood stunned in the growing mass of students who had gathered in the open ground, at the foot of the Astronomy Tower. There was an all so familiar and yet unfamiliar, broken mass of limbs piled feet away from him, and Harry was lying across it, his heart-wrenching screams echoing off the stone walls, breaking and shattering the cold silence of the grounds.

He wanted to move ahead, he wanted to console his best mate but he remained rooted to his spot instead, soaking the chill of the night that was creeping in through his skin right to his bones. Even without looking at the dark mark that floated in the sky above the beloved castle, he could feel the terror slithering in and reaching his core as if the high, enchanted and secure walls around the school had been shattered to pieces. And in a way they had. Dumbledore, their protector, was dead.

He took in a shaky breath clasping the wand firmly in his hands. The wood seemed to shake a little as if some residual magic from all the spells and jinxes it had been shooting all around just till a while ago still lingered in it. Or perhaps, it was his hand that was shaking? He glanced at Ginny who had now approached Harry, and Ron turned over his hand to look at his palm. No there was definitely trembling in here although he felt no pain. A sense of urgency seemed to be building in him, a premonition of something he could not place, but a desperate need to rush somewhere.

 _But where to?_

The Death Eaters had all fled, and the place was being secured once again by the Order members. He tried to relax but the nerves hit him again, much stronger this time as if pulling him away, and guiding him to someplace where he was urgently needed. Ron looked around, and eventually giving in to the urge, he made his way through the crowd back to the castle. He bumped into students, mostly those who had been late, and were slowly making their way towards the scene now. Some of them pushed him in their eagerness to see what had happened, others merely scooted past him, ignoring his bruised form altogether. The more he walked, the more the sense of urgency gripped his innards and after a while, he was the one who was pushing and jostling people around, squeezing through human gaps as he allowed his instinct to guide him to this destination.

By the time, he passed the Great Hall he knew where he was going, and why. He ran as fast as his long, aching legs would allow, the pictures and suits of armour whizzing past him, hoping desperately that his instincts would be wrong, hoping that she would be safe. That was the point, wasn't it, keeping her safe? Wasn't that the reason why he had not told her of Harry's suspicion as the younger boy had left him with the map and the bottle of Felix Felicis, along with a precise set of instructions that had seemed silly at that moment? That was the reason why he had glanced at her wordlessly while she continued to avoid him, busy packing the tiny bag Ginny had brought for her, the one that she had enchanted with the Undetectable Extension Charm. It was all done to keep her safe in case something untold did happen. And yet, after everything, here he was, rushing past the corridors because something told him that she needed him, now.

His sides were aching painfully by the time he reached the painting of the Fat Lady.

"Feroces ad mortem." He huffed, and did not wait to answer the Fat Lady who was inquiring about the sudden commotion as he rushed inside to the completely empty common room. Few more swift strides and he stood in front of his four poster bed. A quick glance at the watch told him that it was quarter past two. The sense of doom loomed larger than ever, and without further ado, he placed his palm on the side of the wall in a well-practiced fashion.

...

All sounds seized as he entered her chamber. Here she was, lying on the couch, with a book on her lap. The familiar sight should have driven his concerns away but they didn't. Not after the way the magic had cracked around his palm as he had touched the wall, something was not right. He turned around, and his heart stopped for a minute. A wispy white form was materializing right in front of his eyes in the space that lay between him and her sleeping form.

Even as the figure swirled around drawing what seemed to be air and magic from the surrounding to create a shape he could almost recognise, he rushed closer to her, and bending low over her sleeping form, shook her awake.

"Hermione! Hermione! Wake up!" he called softly so as not to scare her but urgently at the same time. She opened her eyes partially and peered at him sleepily through her thick lashes. He could spend a lifetime looking at her. A few heartbeats before the familiar expression of resentment took over her face seemed to still his heart giving him a hope he would not readily accept. He continued to take her in while she looked at him as if she wasn't sure if he was a dream or not. He could have looked at her for hours but the sense of dread was looming larger now, and so was the vapour figure behind him.

"Get up, Hermione! We need to get out of here!" He urged without thinking as if his conscience had known it all along. And before the confused look in her eyes fully cleared up, a familiar voice sounded behind him causing the fine hairs on his neck to stand.

"Ron Weasley, you are to take Hermione Granger away from this room," said the shadowy form of the dead Headmaster, and Hermione, who had been captured in an instant in his arms held protectively close to Ron's chest, let out an audible gasp.

"Know this that the charm of this room ends precisely an hour after my death. And everything that is here will vanish along with this room at the end of the hour. Any human who could not escape will fall to his death. Your magic and the bond that makes you Miss Granger's custodian has brought you here. It is your responsibility to take her away and keep her safe and well hidden till help arrives. Hurry."

The figure vanished and rather than answering the million questions that swarmed her eyes, Ron knew he had to act.

"Come on, quick. We have barely fifteen minutes or maybe even less," he urged, pulling Hermione to her feet. She shook vigorously and held on to him, unable perhaps to process the sudden change of events, and Ron placed his hands on her shoulder as he shook her to draw her out of the shock.

"Dumbledore is dead. We have to get out of here, you understand?" she nodded feebly, and he looked around as if to take in the most important things to save, clasping her hand tightly in his own.

"Where is that book? And your wand?" he asked looking around, and she took a shaky breath before answering.

"W-Wand's on the couch," she said, and to his great relief, seemed to come to herself. Releasing herself from his clasp she crossed him, and pulled them out along with another book that she had been reading and shoved all of them unceremoniously inside the small beaded bag that lay on the table. Glad that she had snapped back into action, he grabbed the few other books that were on the table and dumped them into the small bag as well.

"What other things are absolutely urgent?" he asked pocketing the small bag and looking around, as the floor below him trembled while the walls crackled with tiny streaks of lightening. Ron glanced at his watch again. Time was running out faster than ever. He turned around to pull her away but she had already run past him to her bedroom.

"WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU GOING?" he screamed running after her.

"Some of my books are still there!" she replied in a rush and flung open the door. He let out a shriek, and grasping her arm, pulled her into his chest when she was barely a step away from the other side. Both of them looked in horror at the open sky and the school ground ahead, a sheer drop beyond the door.

Holding her hand tightly, Ron ran as fast as he could in the direction of their escape route. He could feel the cold air hitting his back and realised that the other rooms were perhaps vanishing too. He pushed open the door and literally threw her on his bed before collapsing on it too.

Just a moment after she crashed out of his door onto his bed and he joined her, Hermione turned around and noticed the familiar and comfortable room disappear into nothingness before the wall materialized to block her view.

An end to another chapter of her life, taken away without warning, once again...

...

It was nothing but a solid wall. That, and a pair of bodies that currently lay one on top of other on the compact school bed, both panting heavily.

His hands were still shaking, and the familiar sense of void that came after escaping death closely was beginning to take over. And yet, he put aside every other thought and closing his eyes, breathed in deeply drawing in her familiar fragrance.

"Hermione..." he breathed out raggedly and realised it came out almost like a broken sigh wrapped in a prayer. She stifled under him at his voice, and Ron finally noticed that he was lying completely atop her, her petite, warm body pressed between him and the mattress while his face was buried in her hair at her nape.

There could be a hundred things that his young heart could feel, but all that he could decipher at that moment was immense gratitude that she was alive and safe. Few more minutes and he could have lost her forever. He forced that thought aside and gripped her harder perhaps just to convince himself that she was alright. The fingers of the hand that seemed to have landed on her waist curled around and pulled her closer to his body even as they grazed the soft, creamy skin underneath her pajama top. It seemed to have risen higher sometime during their fall. His groin gave a jerk, and he managed to remove himself away hastily to rest on his side, squeezed tight between the wall on one side and Hermione on the other.

Ashamed and embarrassed of his body's reaction, he forced himself to look at her and relaxed ever so slightly noticing that she had her eyes closed. The very faint light from the single or two candles in the room floated in through the curtains to create a semi-darkness around them, and he could barely make out her face. It was only now that Ron realised that she was crying softly.

Running purely on instinct, he placed his palm gently on her cheeks rubbing the single trail of tear away with his thumb. The other hand, which was used to angle himself so as not to collapse on her, was aching to wrap around her too. But he held on keeping as much space as he could between them which he realized was not much. She opened her eyes at his touch and licked her lips as she took in his face. She seemed to struggle for words and bit her lips to hide the anguish.

"D-Dumbledore-?" she managed finally and fearfully although Ron knew she was already aware of the answer to her question.

He tried to get rid of the image of the broken hero out of his mind and be strong, but it was not easy. If death was cruel, the sight of it was far worse.

He nodded as a breath escaped out of his lips blowing a few curls away from her face. He tried concentrating on her eyes and not on the various dark scenarios that were popping in his mind but they forced in their way in no matter how hard he tried.

Dumbledore was dead... Hermione's secret sanctuary was no more, Voldemort was all powerful now...

Each thought seemed to make his heart beat faster and compress his chest squeezing the air out of his lungs. It was like the invisible protective shield around them had cracked leaving him, all of them, at mortal peril. The war had never seemed so real, not the time Voldemort had returned at the end of their fourth year, not even when he had come out in the open in the Ministry, as much as it did now.

He looked at the girl in his arms and realised that everything they had been preparing for was here, the war, the struggle for survival, their biggest threat, and the huge responsibility that had been thrust on their young shoulders- to finish the one man who had caused the downfall of the greatest wizard ever, Albus Dumbledore...

He thought of Harry and knew he had to be there with his best mate, he thought of Ginny and Bill who he remembered seeing duelling earlier. But he hadn't seen his elder brother post that, and a fleeting terror seemed to choke him out. _No, he would be safe, he had to be._

And Hermione... she had to be kept safe, she was a responsibility handed out specifically to him. He realized that she was in danger from both sides of the war now. And he had to keep her protected like the image of Dumbledore had told him. Ron knew he had to leave, get help from McGonagall. The boys' dormitory was hardly a place safe enough for her. He had to do as Dumbledore's image had said, but before that, he had to tell her what had happened, and he had to ensure her security while he was away.

"Harry-, " he began with difficulty and breathed in swallowing the guilt along with air. "He was right about Malfoy..." he told her, and her face lost the little bit of colour it had regained in the small amount of time.

"He let in Death Eaters into the school. I'm not sure what happened but- Dumbledore is dead." He managed biting back the pain and fear that threatened to suffocate him.

Slowly he told her everything, Harry receiving the message from Dumbledore at dinner, him leaving Ron with the map and the luck potion. He told her about informing Ginny and the rest of the DA. He told her about patrolling the corridors along with Luna, Neville and Ginny and paused before mentioning the horror he had felt seeing the hoard of Death Eaters coming out of the Room of Requirements. He could not tell her about the sickly crackle of Bellatrix Lestrange that seemed to fill his ears again. He was sure if it had not been for the Felix Felicis, at least, one of them would have joined the list of causalities along with their Headmaster tonight. He himself had narrowly escaped at least two green streaks. The Death Eaters did not shoot to maim, at least, Bellatrix did not.

"We are all safe, I think so. I am yet to check on the others." He told her, turning around, not meeting her gaze which seemed to know he was not telling her everything.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

His head snapped up towards her.

"You came in after dinner but never told me a thing!" she screeched not very loudly but loud enough for anyone outside to hear. Ron pulled out his wand and cast a Silencing Charm around them before replying.

"I could not risk it, Hermione," He told her stiffly.

"That is absurd!" she yelled back, wiping off her tears hastily. "You know I am capable of handling it! You took Ginny, Longbottom and Luna Lovegood but not me?!"

"This is NOT about your skills or knowledge, Granger!" he reprimanded shortly. "I wasn't even sure Harry was right, I was not going to blow your cover for it. Even though his suspicions did turn out to be true, I am happy that you were out of the firing range! Do you even know what would have happened if the Death Eaters had seen you there fighting along with us?!"

"I don't care! I can handle myself! I am NOT your responsibility, Ronald!" she spat back stubbornly although he thought he saw a fleeting amount of distress in her eyes as if she knew he was right but could not let go of the argument for some reason.

"That's where you are wrong, Hermione. You are my responsibility, at least, your safety is." He could not understand why she could not accept the obvious. She glared at him with those big eyes of hers and he looked right back for a while before closing his eyes to arrange his thoughts.

"I'll have to go, to check on Harry and the others," he said and rolled over her ignoring her gasp and climbed out of the bed. He paused and then cast a special spell they had picked up to lock the door before casting one more on his bed to avoid anyone apart from him to open the bed curtains. He set up a few more protective enchantments around his bed, thanking her silently for all the research she had made them do.

"I can open all of those barriers, you know that right?" she asked sitting up and watching him like a mutinous child. He let out an exasperated sigh and collapsed on his knees in front of her. Dropping his wand next to her on the bed, Ron brought his palms up to hold her face, looking deeply into her eyes.

"I know you can" he said tenderly. She made him feel a hundred things that he could never verbalize, things he would not allow himself to feel but did anyway. He wondered if she would ever see through his mask, recognise the true Ron. Hermione continued to glare at him but for reasons unknown, did not move away. If he could identify correctly, she too seemed to be fighting a hundred emotions, the central being that of pain.

"I know you can break every single spell I have cast, Hermione," He whispered as his thumbs gently caressed her cheeks and she seemed to clench her jaws while biting back her tears and looked at him mutinously.

"I know you can leave this room if you want but... please don't." He murmured, and for an instant, her eyes softened as they stared at his blue ones before lowering them.

"I have to keep you safe, and nothing is safe anymore," he continued painfully hoping that she would understand.

"I-I have to go and check on everyone. I have to find Harry, he needs me right now but I can't leave till you promise me you will keep yourself safe." He said as his fingers tangled in her curls at the back of her head and he tilted her face draw her eyes on him again. _How could she not understand how important this was for him? How could she not know how important she was for him?_

She seemed to be struggling with her own arguments and emotions but eventually, she nodded slightly and he let out a relieved sigh.

"I'll be back as soon as I can. You keep to the bed and keep the curtains drawn, and please be on your guard, alright?" he asked as he slowly, reluctantly removed his hands and stood up. He had to make this quick and come back. He hoped McGonagall would be able to help move her to safer quarters, a part of him groaned at the thought. He wanted her to be exactly where she was, with him, right in front of his eyes so that he would know she was safe.

He gave her a weak smile and turned around. He was almost at the door when she called.

"Ron?" He turned around and strode back to her quickly. She was still sitting so he kneeled down in front of her again.

"What happened? Do you need anything?" he asked concerned.

She took in his face, and warmth seemed to spread over him. He wanted to hold on to that moment and capture it in his memory forever. He wanted to pull her into his arms and wrap himself around her so that anything that attempted to endanger her would have to cross him first. He wanted to tell her what he thought but didn't, just sat waiting for her to speak up.

"You are hurt..." she whispered and he smiled a little more genuinely this time.

"Just scratches, the luck potions kept the more wild ones away," He replied.

She took out her wand, and pointing it directly at his face cast an unknown spell. More warmth emanated from the tip of her wand and he closed his eyes for a minute before opening them back.

"Thank you." He said quietly and after a brief glance at her tired face, got up again. She called him back once more, though.

"Ron?"

"Yes, Hermione?"

"Please stay safe... and come back quickly." She said consciously and averting his gaze, pulled back the curtains of his bed, hiding from his view.

"I will..." He promised, and taking a few deep breaths to compose himself, left the room quickly.

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 _ **A/N:**_ I am so humbled to see this story receiving so many fantastic reviews and followers and that, people who don't have English as their native tongue are giving this a chance too.

Thanks to each one of you for keeping me motivated.

Please leave a review, thanks!


	34. The Breakdown- Part 2

**A/N:** Am I frustrating you with all the angst? I hope not, but I guess, I am to quite an extent. I am so sorry but love stories are rarely all flowers and hearts. People are hardly always open about their emotions. Especially Pisces men and Ron honestly is a fine example of one. Just as an additional read, you might want to go through the article named Pisces Man: Pisces Man Personality, it's on blogspot. Just google 'Pisces Male Characteristic' and you should find it. Though I went through the article after I wrote this chapter, I was so happy to see that I got the character exactly as I visualized and in tune with his zodiac. Trust me, that will explain a lot.

Thank you all so much for your reviews. This story continues to get more support than I ever thought possible, I truly feel very humbled by your responses. I hope this week I'll be able to answer quite a few of you. I have been really stuck at my end and haven't been able to respond in days.

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 **All Character rights belong to JKR.**

 **Chapter 33: The Breakdown – Part 2**

She cried, not softly but with heart-wrenching sobs as she clutched Ron's covers to her chest and buried her face in his pillow. She cried for the terror that gripped her heart, she cried for Dumbledore, and most of all she for the loss of the little peace she had come to hold dear. She cried for her parents, and the home she had once known, and for the loss of the one sanctuary that had been hers after everything else had been ripped away from her. And when she had shed so many tears that she felt she had none left, she quietened exhausted and joined the silence of the deserted dormitory.

Anyone who knew Hermione knew that she was a voracious reader, she could perhaps go without meals for a day but not without her books. But no one knew why she read so much, perhaps one person did, the one boy she had confided in during the very early years of her childhood. Only he knew that she read because she wanted to see the world, visit other wizarding settlements, learn and be her own self-someday. She read because it was one thing that gave her wings to explore beyond the walls of the Granger Mansion. She read because she wished to be sure of her career choice, if, by luck, one day she was allowed to follow her dreams.

But being born a girl in a pureblood elite society did not leave one with many choices. It did not allow one to tear off the shackles of tradition and take up a job at the Ministry as lawyer or be a Healer for that matter. Being born in such a reputed high standing family meant that one was not even allowed to choose their life partner. The only choices they were allowed was to decide from the unending supply of lavish gowns or jewellery, and plan balls and parties. Later on, as parents, one had the right to decide alliances for their own children, based on a set of prerequisites obviously. It meant that no matter how smart one was, or how capable, she would be reduced to being just a proper-bred, dutiful wife and produce pureblood heirs.

Hermione read because when she was little and knew not much about her world, she had dreams. Dreams that turned to be wishful fantasies as she grew older and she realised that she was destined to a preordained future like her mother, grandmothers, and generations of women before them. The only time she had to make a mark for herself, was at school, at Hogwarts. She knew, once she graduated and Draco came of age, she would be married off and then pressurised to bear the next Malfoy heir. Was she happy? No. But there wasn't a choice. Children in families such as hers were taught to be dutiful and follow the traditions without question, and she did as she had been taught. She accepted everything because she had been taught well, and Hermione was nothing if not a great learner. She accepted everything because she never knew there could be anything different. Never knew that she too would have a choice, to live as she wanted, to love a person her heart chose.

Was she in love with Draco? No, she had never been. She had simply accepted it just as he had. They did not really acknowledge the future their parents had chosen for them, perhaps because each one wanted to live before they were bonded together. She paid no attention to Pancy who clung on to Draco no matter how distasteful their public displays got at times in the common room. And Draco did not bother about her affections for Krum while it lasted. It was a business deal that had been mutually accepted if not formally announced. And, as long as she did not lose her virginity to someone else before their formal engagement, that is to say, stayed 'pure', the deal was pretty much closed.

Did he know about her dreams? He did, she had told him while they played together as children. And even at the age of nine, he had laughed, rudely. Girls were not supposed to work! Didn't she know that? No well bred witch hailing from respectable pureblood families worked! His mother didn't, neither did hers. It was stupid, he had told her, and she had never mentioned it to anyone else in fear that they would call her silly. But deep down the dream had stayed locked, only to manifest itself in her zeal to learn and be the best in school, at least if not in the future.

She shuddered at what Draco had become in his zeal to follow his father's footsteps.

 _He let Death Eaters into the school._

She still could not believe it. What had he done?! Was he indeed a Death Eater now as Harry suspected? She now knew that Harry was as paranoid about Draco as the latter was about him. She had heard her new friend grumble for hours about his suspicion and had kept silent not just because she had no such information but also because it was a delicate topic for both Ron and herself. And even if she had not avoided it, would she ever have dreamt of Draco becoming a Death Eater? She had not really given it a thought. He would do so if his father asked him to, he would do it because he did look up to the Dark Lord like her parents did. It was not supposed to be so soon or affect her; Narcissa never took the mark after all, neither did her parents. But all arguments aside, it seemed that Draco had indeed joined the Dark side and he had caused a death. She wondered if he felt guilty. She wondered if she would come face to face with her once friend in her new journey. What would happen if they did? Would he remember their friendship, all the times they played together as children, spend years in the same house at school or would she now be an enemy? But of course, she was now with the Order and with people deemed to be blood traitors; she was a blood traitor too wasn't she?

Hermione grasped the covers tighter, snuggling deeper inside them wishing for the comforting presence of the owner. The escape from her room was a blur now. All she could remember was Ron's presence and his eyes, his voice and the beating of his heart against hers. Her lips quivered again at his thought. Why did he have to do this to her? She had barely spoken to him since that day when he had shattered the hope she held closest to her heart. The only conversations were during the preparations, and only as much as required, not a word more. It was difficult to know if Harry noticed, perhaps not, because nowadays, he was always preoccupied with Ginny when they were not working. The tension between Ron and her had been thick and she had spent each night after the exams crying for him. He infuriated her more than anyone she knew. It seemed at times that he was unconcerned about their changed equation, indifferent about how much he hurt her with that one word. But then, when she would be all engrossed in her papers and forgot to eat, he would be the one to bring her a plate and sit silently in front of her till she ate. He never looked at her or said a word during those times, just sat quietly till she reached for the food and finished it just so that he would leave her alone. No matter how much she tried, Ron made her heart yearn for him, even during times when he was being his idiotic best. She craved for him like she had never craved for anyone ever. Most of all, he taught her what it meant to be denied of a desire.

Hermione thought she now knew why Dumbledore had made Ron her guard and not Harry. It wasn't just because Harry was overburdened with an enormous destiny already. It was because the wise old man knew that Ron had everything that Hermione wanted. He had a family that she needed desperately. He tried his best to be an insufferable git, prove to her that he couldn't care less but the events of the recent past gave her a sliver of hope. Wasn't that genuine concern in his eyes? Yes, that and a lot more. She did not wish to admit simply because hopes getting dashed, wasn't exactly a painless event. And Ronald was a player in that area; he had managed to do it over and over again.

Why was she still holding on? Why was she still pining away for him? Why was her stupid heart still willing to give it a try? Maybe because it knew that no matter what he said, Ron did care and she was irrevocably in love with him. Accepting defeat was not exactly her nature, and he was a puzzle she could not solve. For reasons unknown to her, however, he was hell bent on keeping away from her and the reason for it was what she could not figure out. Was it because of what he said about Ginny and Harry? But that did not make sense, not now anyway. She might have belonged to a rich family but what did she have now? Even most of her clothes were second hand. Was it because of their history then, the false allegations she had spewed against him? Perhaps so, and if it was, nothing she ever did could make it right...

There seemed to be a commotion outside and Hermione turned around fearfully, searching for her wand. Her panic increased manifold on not finding the precious article anywhere, and she groaned remembering that she had dropped it into the bag, which by the look of it, was with Ron. Blending back against the wall as much as possible, she breathed softly, praying that nothing was serious and their protections would hold.

...

"What's wrong?" he asked glancing at the three of his dorm-mates who were standing outside their room.

"None of us can enter. Some enchantment by the look of it." Motioned Dean with his brows furrowed as Seamus tried unsuccessfully to enter again only to get push back by some invisible force.

Ron groaned internally. He had forgotten that this could have happened but at least, it meant that their charms worked. He glanced at Harry who had collapsed on the couch in front of the fire and turned back to the other boys.

"Are you all sure?" he asked, "Looks like Seamus has helped himself to a few Fire whiskey shots."

"Yeah, but I ain't drunk." Retorted the other boy furiously.

"Never said you were, Seamus." He replied and scooting past the other, crossed through the door easily. Taking advantage of the dark interiors, he undid the spell before calling out to the others.

"Are you sure you are not drunk too, Dean?" he called and the flabbergasted group followed him inside.

"That was blocked, I'm tellin ya!" injected Dean, looking around fearfully. But nothing seemed to be out of ordinary so he collapsed back on his bed confused.

Ron let out a soft sigh of relief and glanced inconspicuously at his bed. The curtains were still drawn close.

"How many shots, Dean?" he asked while Neville eyed him suspiciously.

"A couple, that's all, I swear!" answered the other boy still looking confused, and Ron decided that there was no point dragging it further. Seamus was already snoring softly lying face down on his bed. Looking away, he came face to face with Neville.

"Thanks, mate." He said softly clasping the other boy on the shoulder.

"Anytime, Ron, you know that," He replied, a confusion of sorts still floating in his eyes.

"Thanks." Ron breathed softly and pulled out a fresh tee from his trunk.

"How's Harry doing?" asked Neville behind him.

He sighed and pulling off his jacket, dropped it unceremoniously on the floor. Next, he pulled off his worn out tee shirt over his head and threw it in the laundry basket at the foot of his bed.

"Not good," He said tiredly as he pulled on the fresh one over himself.

"You are going back to the common room, aren't you?" asked Neville and Ron turned around to see that he too had changed into his pajamas.

"... No... He wants some time alone..."

Neville nodded in understanding and then pulled the curtains of his four-poster bed shut. Ron waited to ensure all the curtains were drawn before turning around at his own bed, not bothering to change his jeans for a comfortable pair of pajama bottoms.

He opened the curtains only partly and his heart almost stopped beating for a minute finding it empty. But then, as he shifted, a small ray of light entered to illuminate a pair of eyes that closed shut at the sudden glare and he relaxed immediately. Entering inside quickly, he closed them shut again. Only after he had re-cast the Silencing Charm around them did he speak to her.

"Are you alright?" he whispered and she pulled down the cover and nodded slightly.

"You- You took my wand away." She said hoarsely and Ron assumed that she might have spent a good amount of the time crying.

"Fuck! I'm sorry, forgot." He grumbled and putting just his hand outside, fumbled till he located the jacket. Pulling it inside, he retrieved the small bag and handed it to her. She was sitting in the small space between him and the wall now. Taking it she pulled out her wand and placed both of the articles under the pillow.

He knew she was waiting for answers and he lay flat, resting his aching back for a while before turning to his left to look at her. Where was he supposed to begin?

"Is everyone alright?" she asked giving him an opening.

"Almost. Minor injuries for most, except McGonagall who was hit with four simultaneous Stunning Spells. She is spending the night in the infirmary." Hermione let out a gasp, covering her mouth instantly with one free hand as tears sprang up in her eyes again.

"And Bill-", he noticed she was going paler perhaps. "He was mauled by Greyback," He stated quietly looking away as anger coursed through him at the memory of his brother's scratched face.

"Oh Ron!" she cried softly.

"Remus reckons he won't transform because it's not a full moon tonight but-", he sighed softly, "no one knows for sure..."

"There is more, isn't it?" she asked after a while, and he licked his cracked and parched lips.

"Yeah..." he replied turning to her again. "Hermione-", he started but paused noticing how beautiful her name felt from his lips. He licked them once taking her all in. Did she know how devastating the next news was going to be? Especially for her?

"Ron-?" she asked fearfully.

"Snape killed Dumbledore." He let out a breath, "Turns out that slimy git was always a Death Eater." He spat furiously missing that Hermione was visibly shaking now.

"H-He knows!" she managed, trembling and just like earlier, Ron found him incapable of keeping away from her. He placed a tentative palm on hers that lay on her knees, placing his fingers between the gaps of hers and curling them to hold her hand.

"Yes," He whispered, aching to pull her into him, aching to comfort her in whatever way she needed him tonight. Heck, even he needed some comforting; he needed to be told that there was still hope.

"He knows I am alive, maybe- maybe he has known it all along..." she continued as he gazed at her downcast eyes that darted to and fro as in reading from an invisible book. "He knows I am with the Order now!" she cried and looked at him.

He nodded solemnly. "Yes Hermione, most likely." He stated and then with a sigh, pushed himself up to lean against the headboard. She had turned her palm around and he noticed she was holding him too. Before conscious thought could take over, Ron had already pulled her to him making her curl next to his torso, one hand wrapped around his neck, face buried into his chest. He placed his arms around her, soaking in her warmth and pressing his palms on the small of her back. The back of his hands were gently tickled by her luscious curls.

There were no words but the gentle breathing of two hearts that rose and fell in close contact; each drawing in strength from the other. Ron closed his eyes and concentrated only on Hermione, her fragrance and her body snuggled into him, and the fear and worry seemed to dissipate a little, like a thin stream of light that breaks even the densest of the dark corners of a room.

As the other emotions of terror settled down, he became more aware of her. The situations were not healthy but Hermione hidden inside his four-poster bed was like a secret fantasy come true. He berated himself guiltily. Shouldn't he have confided in any other teacher for her security? He knew he should have, but didn't. He tried reasoning that she was safe and it was only a matter of one night, and he was doing his duty by keeping her safe. But his heart knew that he was intentionally keeping from sending her away. Was it endangering her? He hoped not, and he had told Harry, hadn't he? But Harry had left him to decide. Perhaps it would be more logical to have sent her to Ginny's dorm hidden inside the cloak but he had dropped that idea too. Was he being selfish, he knew he was...

She shifted slightly in his embrace and he loosened his grip but did not take his hands away. Hermione looked at him through her wet lashes, and a wall inside him seemed to crumble down. Placing his palm gently at her chin, he lifted her face slightly to meet his eyes. But a minute and they were drawn to her lips instead as her tongue darted out delicately to moisten them leaving them slightly parted, _for him perhaps?_ A feral growl emanated from deep inside his soul, and he pulled her to him, crashing his lips on her delicate ones. There was a moment of shock when she stifled and Ron wanted to stop although he could hardly draw in the strength to do so, but then, she relaxed and melted into his arms, almost taking him off the edge. How many times had he dreamt of this? A million perhaps, but the dreams were nothing compared to the real thing. She was soft, the whole of her, petite and fragile in his arms. He kissed her gently, tasting her delectable lips as they blended with his own. There was a gush of sweetness that was better than the best dessert he had ever tasted and he could not help crave for more. He traced his tongue over her lips, and they parted drawing a moan from her. He flicked his tongue inside, aware of the growing need of his body. His thumb gently caressed her cheek while the other hand struggled to keep from ripping her top open.

He broke the kiss, breathing in heavily, forcing himself to stop but her slightly arched form resting on his arms, those partly closed eyes, and the heavy breathing that caused the swell of her breasts to become more prominent, was way too much for him. He bent down again and his lips met her jaw and nibbled softly. He angled her to reach the sensitive spot behind her ear, and she shuddered pleasantly and fisted his tee-shirt at his shoulders. His lips moved to her neck and he wondered briefly if his two days old stubble bothered her. But she let out a whimper that sounded so similar to his name that everything except one thought escaped his mind, _Hermione.._. Turning them over, he lay her gently on the pillow, and angled himself over her, balancing his weight on his knees and elbows. Ron had no clue how far he intended to go but Hermione was drawing him to her like a flame pulled a moth. He was powerless to think or rationalize his actions. He had wanted this for a long time, ever since the days when they patrolled in the corridors during their fifth year, even then when his experience with girls had been next to zero. He was only following his instincts, not like with Lavender when he thought about his actions. Here he was being himself, taking in what he desired, and by the look of it, Hermione was totally content with giving him the lead. He clasped both her hands in his, weaving his fingers through hers and lowered his body further. His mouth pressed in the crook of her neck and she turned to the other side to give him better access. Her body arched of her own accord causing his hard member to brush against her thighs. If it had not been for his ex-girlfriend who had taught him 'patience' as she called it, he might have spilled his seed then and there. But thanks to her 'lessons', he didn't, and continued to suck in hard, completely aware that there would be a mark the next day. His left hand unclasped from hers to reach her top, and within minutes, three buttons were undone leaving him with a tantalizing view of her cleavage. Fisting the ends of the cloth to pull them further away, Ron looked at her again.

 _Sweet Merlin, she was beautiful!_ Spread out on his bed, her curly hair spread out on his pillow, and flushed with a crazy mix of lust and coyness, she looked more gorgeous than he had even seen her.

Hermione was breathing as heavy as he was, her eyes were still closed but there was a definite hint of a smile that lingered on those swollen lips. Satisfied, he pulled the cloth down to reveal a peach coloured bra. His member was aching in the double confines of his boxers and jeans, and he breathed deeply before moistening his lips. His finger traced the edge of the bra cups, which caused her to shudder pleasantly. Pinching it up in between two fingers, he pulled the last barrier down slowly, exposing her bare breasts to him finally, moaning deeply at the sight. Her free hand reached out to grasp the back of his head, and with a surprised smirk, he realized that she was actually trying to pull him to her body, arching herself to close the distance between them. He obliged readily. With a grunt, his mouth crashed on her right breast as he closed his eyes at the pleasant sensation. His other hand cupped the other one roughly in his palm and began kneading it none too gently. She literally moaned out his name this time, causing him to suck and pinch her nipples harder as his body angled to rub his hard member over her soft core.

"Ron?"

His eyes snapped open to meet her shocked ones, his mouth and hand still at her breasts. With that one sound, the blissful bubble snapped into half. He pulled himself up grudgingly, forcing himself not to ignore Harry altogether and continue. Breathing heavily, he released the hold of his mouth and hand from her body, meeting her lust loaded eyes for a brief minute.

Harry shuffled outside and Ron pushed himself off Hermione completely. He was sure he looked as embarrassed as she did but he couldn't say for sure as she resolutely looked down. She had somehow managed to button up her top but without adjusting her bra. His eyes were drawn to her body again, the hardened nipples, one moist with his saliva and the other perked up because of his ministrations, were visible pressing through the fabric. He forced his eyes away, frustration and a lot many other feelings bubbling beneath the surface. Hermione slid under the cover and pressed close to the wall. His cock was aching painfully and he took in a few deep breaths to compose himself and crashed on the bed softly with his palms pressed onto his eyes. He could still hear her ragged breathing, still smell her flowery fragrance and he swore under his breath.

"Ron... Mate?" Harry called again and fearful that Harry would part the curtains and peek inside, he cleared his throat to reply.

"Yeah... Harry... Just a minute, mate." He called, noticing how husky it sounded. He turned at Hermione debating between apologizing and kissing her once. Finally, doing neither, he pushed the curtains apart slightly and brought down his legs on the floor, sitting awkwardly.

"Sorry... Where you..?" asked Harry consciously and Ron ran a hand through his hair hoping that his demure would pass off as a result of being sleepy.

"Er..Sorry mate... Dozed off..." He replied haltingly, not meeting his friend's eyes. If Harry suspected anything, he was tactful enough not to mention it.

"Oh! Er... I'm sorry... but I thought..." he fumbled for a while and then coming closer, whispered softly, "She is- ?"

"S-Sleeping...", Ron provided quickly, "Slept off before I came. I'm guessing must have been beat."

"Right." Replied the other boy slightly embarrassed himself, and collapsed on his own bed.

"What are we going to do?" he asked after a while and Ron knew that he was asking himself the same thing.

"Talk to McGonagall tomorrow and then..."

"I know..." breathed Harry softly and Ron felt terrible. Here his best mate was struggling to cope with another death while he was-.

"Get rest, Mate. Tomorrow is going to be a long day." He said and Harry only nodded in reply knowing that they could not discuss anything here with the others.

"You too, Ron." He replied and taking off his glasses and placing them on the bedside table, lay back.

"Harry?"

"Yeah?"

"We'll see this through. We will, Mate."

"Thanks, Ron... 'night."

"Night Harry."

...

He pulled inside the bed again and noticed she was sitting up with her back resting against the headboard, her knees pressed close to her body.

He ached to touch her, to turn back time before Harry interrupted the best moment of his life, but now he was not so sure anymore. The spell had been broken, and along with Harry's voice, all his insecurities and reasons to resist her had crashed over him again. But more than it all, was the guilt. Why had he taken this road? There was no turning back now. A part of him that was obsessed with her was craving to keep all reasoning aside and continue from where he had stopped but the magic had already broken.

"Is he alright?" she asked softly.

"No, but he will be, eventually," He replied.

"Hermione, I-", he didn't really know how to begin, or what to say and groaned helplessly.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have...", he managed knowing well that whatever happened, or would have gone on to happen, was mutual from both their ends. But still, hadn't he promised himself about keeping his distance? The sight of her was fuelling his wants again and all he wanted to do was get away and wank lest he force himself on her. But something told him that leaving without an explanation would screw their relationship further. _Fuck! Hadn't they screwed it up enough already?!_

"Did you talk to anyone about what happened to my chamber?" she asked still averting his eyes.

"I told Harry," He replied, "I couldn't tell McGonagall, she was unconscious." He justified feeling a little guilty. Most likely, she was thinking of him to be a hypocrite or a pervert, quite possibly both.

"Would you like to go to Ginny's room?" he asked quietly.

"I- Alright... I know, it must be uncomfortable for you with me here." She muttered and Ron wondered what he had said to hurt her.

"No, it's not like that at all!" he said quickly. They were facing each other but Hermione hadn't still looked at him.

"Then what is it, Ron?" she asked and looked up to meet his blue orbs with her big chocolate ones. There was no mistaking the hurt. Ron had no clue why she would be so upset but his heart sank a little nonetheless.

"I want to know what you think, what exactly you want, Ron." She said exasperatedly and he felt his temper rise too. How could she blame him like this when he was sure she was equally into it till a while ago?

"Believe me, you don't... You don't want to know what I think." He replied a little rudely.

"I do!" she fumed as her eyes welled up again. "Why can't we just come clean rather than playing these games with each other? Why can't we just acknowledge what we want from each other?"

He huffed and lay down glaring, "Really?" he asked. _Didn't he have enough to handle already without her going into this argument now? Didn't she even have the faintest clue how achingly painful it was to be stopped like that with a raging a hard-on and then forced to feel guilty and humiliated?_

"And, what happens after that?" he asked noticing that she had managed to squeeze in between him and the wall, and was staring intently at him. "What happens after we acknowledge these 'wants', Hermione? Do we pretend they never happened? Do we blame the other or just go back to being normal friends?" he asked.

"Are we normal friends at all, Ron?" she asked incredulously and he fumbled.

"I don't know," He replied.

"Are we just 'friends'?" she pressed on.

"I don't know, alright?" He said again.

"I-I don't consider you just a friend," she said a little consciously and squared her shoulders as if to say something more, and then, deflated and averted his gaze.

"I'm not sure you'll believe me, but my feelings for you run deeper than friendship..." she said almost in a shocked whisper and when he didn't reply she continued haltingly.

"You don't believe me, do you?" she asked sadly.

He tried stopping himself but his body aching for her touch reached out, and he found himself cupping her cheeks tenderly.

"Look this is not ... These situations are not normal," he told her. "This war, the fear of death lingering around the corner, they make people do crazy things. Once this is over and you are back to where you truly belong, you'll realize I was right." He said gently, cursing himself for pushing her away.

"Right?! Right about what Ronald?" she half cried half spat at him.

"That whatever you feel for me is nothing more than a need for some kind of familiarity in these times of uncertainty... Look I have nothing to give you..." he managed. _Why did she have to bring out the hurting parts in him and scrape them raw again?_

"Why don't you let me decide that?" she cried angrily trying to get his palms off her but he continue to hold her tenderly.

"I know you won't believe me but I ... I love you, Ron." She whispered softly after a while.

His breath hitched for a moment and he looked into her eyes with so deep longing that she hoped against hope that he might believe her just this once. But then he spoke, not rudely, not even with hatred, but with quiet and controlled melancholy which she thought made it all the more worse.

"Trust me, Hermione, someone like you can never fall in love with someone like me. It's just this place and the situation we are in that is playing tricks with your brain. Once you are out of here in the real world, you'll find the very idea of being with me in the same room repulsive. You'll want someone of your standards in terms of intelligence and social status and a penniless bloke like me is miles away from what you would want to have for yourself." He finished, noticing the tears streaming down her cheeks.

"No! No! Ron..." she whimpered and he brushed her tears away with his thumb. _Wasn't this what he wanted? And now that she was admitting her feelings, why was he hell bent on spoiling it?_ He knew why, though, he knew from the time in Grimmauld Place.

She clasped his hands at his wrists resting her forehead on his as her tears continued to flow.

"You deserve so much better than me... I'm sorry for getting so carried away earlier..." he whispered.

"JUST STOP! STOP, OKAY?!" she cried, and he obliged. She crashed on his chest with angry, frustrated sobs not knowing what to say to make him believe or change his mind.

It was much later that she stopped, and he pulled her down so that her head rested on his arm. And while he spooned her from behind in that cramped space, he tried hard not to touch her body.

"Ron?" she asked in a broken, hoarse voice.

"Hmm?"

"Do you... do you think you... Do I appeal to you physically, at least?" she asked, not quite sure why she was asking such a thing.

"You have no clue how much Hermione," he told her, "and I hope for your sake that you never have to know," he managed miserably to himself.

* * *

 _ **A/N:**_ Are you all going to kill me? Please don't! I am looking forward to that review. Thanks a ton for reading.


	35. Changing Tides

**A/N:** Apologies in advance for a long author note but I have a couple of things to share with you all.

First is a super good news that has made me squeal with joy ever since I got the mail.  
This story has been nominated in the **Romioneawards2015** on **Tumblr** under **The Most Intriguing Plot** category. I am extremely excited, overwhelmed and super nervous at the same time. All these years, I have been reading these awesome, award winning stories and to be nominated with them is an honour in itself. A huge Thank you to whoever sent in the nomination. This chapter is dedicated to you with lots of love!

As a big thank you to all my readers and as an appreciation for your support, I am going to post not one but two chapters in quick succession. The next one should hopefully be out on Tuesday evening (by our time i.e GMT +5:30hrs).

Another note, well this is not going to be happy one. I am going off for a family trip for three weeks (leaving on the 4th of March), and will not be posting any update during that time. I know, I did update from my phone when I was writing WFD, but honestly, writing doesn't come so easily with so much distraction, and I really want to do justice to my readers. So, please please, please don't be angry! All the critical chapters will be out once I am back and fear not, I will never abandon this story.

* * *

 **All Character Rights belong to JKR.**

 **Chapter 34: Changing Tides**

Hermione woke up at the crack of dawn. There was silence all around her except for the gentle breathing of the person next to her. As a rough breath escaped her, she realised she had barely slept for a few short hours. A dull ache ran from her temple to the bridge of her nose, and yet, there was something comforting encasing her like a cocoon on all sides. There was the warmth that came with the familiar fragrance of Ron. And there was also his arm that lay on her waist as he spooned her from behind, bodies touching more closely than he would perhaps have preferred if awake.

She continued to breathe in deeply taking in the feelings and the smells, cataloguing them in her memory for the lonely nights that she knew would soon come her way. Pain swelled deep within and choked her on its way out. She bit her lips in an effort to cut the whimper that accompanied it while her eyes hurt with the tears that she tried desperately to hold from spilling over. Slowly she twisted around to face him, careful not to wake him up with her movements or remove his arm that wrapped around her. The sight of a sleeping Ron was all it took to break her fragile walls of composure. Agony engulfed her insides like never before. Why could she not have him? Why could he not believe her just this once? Why did he have to push her away and still hold her so close? What could she ever do that would make him believe her?

Breathing deeply through her mouth, Hermione placed a tentative hand over his freckled cheeks, aching and fearing at the same time to touch him, craving to pull him close and bury his face in her bosom. His face was partly buried in the shared pillow as he lay on his stomach, his messy hair sticking out at odd angles. One long leg was over hers, a heavy but not uncomfortable weight over her thighs. She allowed herself to take him all in, memorizing every freckle and every crease she could see, the way his breath felt on her face, the way his pale lashes curled softly upward, the way his lips parted slightly and brows crunched while his hold on her strengthened and he pulled her closer into himself still asleep. She fisted his t-shirt and buried herself into his chest, closing her eyes as a deep sigh escaped her lips. Despite all the pain that this very person was causing her, she felt so utterly safe and content that sleep captured her yet again.

...

He woke up as a result of someone nudging him on his back, and it took him a few minutes before he could figure out where he was and that the small girl curled into his chest was not a dream. As the memory of the previous night began taking shape, his manhood, that was currently nestled in the uncomfortable confines of his jeans but pressed in the soft wedge between her closed thighs way too close to her core, jerked up. He removed his arms from around her almost in a shock, feeling a sense of cold ascend onto him at the loss of contact.

"Ron?" called Harry again in an unpleasant reminder of the night before, and he hoped he managed to keep the chagrin out of his words when he replied in an uncharacteristically low voice.

"Yeah, Mate?"

"Well, I guess, you'll need this," came the slightly uncomfortable voice from the other end and the curtains parted ever so slightly to reveal Harry's arm. The next moment, something silky dropped onto him and Harry's arm retreated out of view.

Taking the invisibility cloak in his hand, Ron turned once at the sleeping form of Hermione before answering back in an unwavering voice.

"Now?"

"Yeah, I need to talk to the two of you."

"Where?"

There was a momentary pause, and then, Harry replied in a strained whisper. "Room of Requirements, as her room."

It took him a minute to get over the image of Bellatrix leaving the very same room before he replied,

"Alright," he said. "You go ahead. We'll be there in a while. She's still sleeping."

There was a throaty grunt from the other end followed by the muted sound of Harry's footsteps that died down after a while. Extracting his wand carefully from the gap over his pillow, Ron cast a Silencing Charm once more before allowing himself to look at her.

She was still curled up at his side. Few tendrils had come loose from her braid in the course of the night, _or perhaps when they snogged_ , he thought, and blood rushed to his groin at the memory of softness that had been his, if only for a while. He ached to touch himself to relieve some of the pressure building in his loin to restrict himself from giving into the maddening desire to touch her, caress her and bury himself deep inside her...

 _I know you won't believe me but I...I love you, Ron.  
_ The look of her shy eyes, her halting but soft voice and everything else about that moment was etched into his memory. Ron knew he would never have to think twice about a happy memory if and when he came face to face with a Dementor. And still, he had pushed her away.

 _Why couldn't he just stop bothering about future and take what he craved? How likely was it that he would even survive the war? Why could he not just concentrate and live for this moment? Why could he not just admit how madly he was in love with her, how much he craved for her to love him back, how much he craved to make her his own and never let go?_

 _You know why it is important-_ said his brain, and he cursed himself internally. Licking his dry lips and craving to hold her again, he called as softly as he could muster, without letting his inner turmoil reflect on his words.

"'Mione...", he called. _'Mione?! Where had that come from?_ But it sounded so perfect, a name only he would call her by...

She stirred a little but did not open her eyes, so he touched her tenderly, rubbing delicate circles on her cheeks with his thumb. The feel of her soft skin on his calloused palms was so deeply satisfying that his eyes almost fluttered shut in contentment, but then, he remembered why he was waking her up in the first place and he called again.

" 'Mione?" _Again?! What was wrong with him?_ He had no clue when his brain had churned out that name, but it seemed perfect for her, for this moment. Hermione Granger suited the fiery witch she was. But here, hidden behind his bed curtain, curled up next to him was the soft, fragile and delicate girl he wanted to pull into himself and keep away safe. It was perhaps the most vulnerable part of her that was not for everyone to see. But she did allow him to see her that way. She had allowed him to take care when she was broken after getting to know of the truth in the Room of Requirements; she had held on to him at the Grimmauld Place when she had a breakdown. Not Harry or anyone else, him. He ached to bridge the small gap that lay between their bodies; he wished to cover the distance he had denied few hours ago and give in. He craved to tell her that he was hers forever if she would have him. He ached to tell her that he would fail miserably in his resolve to keep away if she continued to look at him with those big brown eyes of hers...

 _Wait! What?!_

Ron pulled his hand off her as if scorched, and a curtain of pain fell over her eyes.

"We need to go to the Room of Requirements, Hermione. Harry wants to talk to us." He said in, what even to his ears, was a strained whisper and she mumbled a soft 'okay' while extracting herself up. His eyes were drawn to her pajama top and primal need coursed through his veins.

"Will you wait for a while here? I need to use the loo." He said looking away, and yet again, she said nothing but nodded slightly in his direction. Without another word, he clambered outside to rush to the attached bathroom of their dorm.

...

Ron returned a good ten minutes later. He felt more miserable now than he did before he wanked to the memory of Hermione's partly naked form writhing under him as his mouth claimed her glorious nipples in his mouth. In his dreams, there was no Harry to interrupt him and he delved in lower to access the soft core that he ached to touch and taste. The need had been way too much to hold in, but it made him feel guilty at the same time. What kind of a fucked up guy was he? On one hand, he had definitely broken her heart the previous night, but on the other, he could not stop pinning away for her or going insane desiring her physically. With a deep, frustrated growl and a few of the choicest swear words muttered under his breath, he clambered back into the bed.

"I'm sorry, I..." he fumbled before he looked at her. She seemed slightly more in control of herself although her eyes still reflected unadulterated pain. Ron decided that he had never hated himself more than he did now.

"I need to change," she told him stiffly, and then, pulled out the beaded bag and her wand from under the pillow. "And we need to see McGonagall," She informed him making him feel completely aware of how much he was hurting her, how much she wanted to leave. An uncomfortable lump formed deep inside his chest region along with an anger he could not really fathom the reason for.

"Yeah...Let's go." He sighed and handed her the cloak. She wore it, disappearing from his view immediately and Ron climbed out of the bed and walked out of the dormitory.

...

Once outside the portrait hall, he fumbled around grasping thin air before he felt soft hands clasp his arm and he gently guided her behind one of the tapestries. Without a word, he lifted the cloak off her and pulled it over them both, slouching to keep his feet covered.

Hermione guided him wordlessly, and he remained silent as well while he matched her steps. He could not tell what she thought but if his guess was correct, he assumed her to be furious with him. And honestly, she had every reason for it. But what could he tell her? So they remained silent, walking together in the unnaturally quiet corridors of the school that seemed to be mourning the loss of their beloved Headmaster. Finally, she stopped outside a familiar girl's bathroom, and he looked down at her questioningly.

"This is-", she began in a hushed whisper.

"-Moaning Myrtle's bathroom, I know," He replied equally softly.

"She won't recognise me, and no one else comes in here," she said. "Wait here," she added, and in a quick move, extracted herself from the cloak and entered the bathroom.

Hermione returned precisely eight minutes later. Ron noticed she had changed into a pair of denim and long sleeved top that was not fitting enough to accentuate her curves. He wondered if she wore that piece intentionally.

"It's a good thing, you packed that in advance," He said pointing at the tiny bag in her hands.

"It's a pity I didn't pack all my books," She replied morosely as they walked again, quicker this time, to make up for the lost minutes. He noticed she was still not talking to him properly, and it pained him immensely. They reached the seventh floor after, what Ron felt, was an unnaturally long and uncomfortable walk, and he took quick strides in front of the blank wall, entering through the door as soon as it materialized in front of them.

Harry was sitting on the familiar couch and for a minute, Ron and Hermione's eyes sought each other as she clasped his arm tightly, but then she released him just as quickly, walking away and he followed her as she took her place next to Harry.

"It's a fake." Said Harry in a monotone the moment Ron had lowered himself on the single-seater.

"What?!" the two new arrivals asked in unison at the boy who was staring intently at a gold locket lying in front of him on the table.

"The Horcrux, it's a fake. It was all for nothing. He died for nothing." He said in a deadpan voice indicating the small letter that Ron now noticed lay under the locket. Hermione picked it up and read through it quickly before handing it over to him.

"RAB? Who is this?" he asked to no one in particular and both his friends shook their head, perturbed.

"What happened last night, Harry?" Hermione asked as she placed one hand on his in a comforting gesture, and suddenly, Ron felt extremely angry. He forced himself to concentrate as Harry began to recount his last ever adventure with Dumbledore.

Both the listeners were practically white as a sheet by the time Harry finished. Ron noticed that Harry was fuming and sure enough, the raven-haired boy shot an angry look at him.

"I told you he was up to something nasty." He spat.

"Yes, he was, Mate. You were right. Who would have guessed he'd pull something like this?" He replied hesitantly. Harry did not reply, whether it was because he understood Ron was truly sorry or because he was too furious to speak, Ron couldn't say for sure.

"Who is this guy?" mused Hermione aloud and Ron pulled the letter from her hands.

"RAB...RAB... why does that sound familiar?" he thought aloud and looked from Harry to Hermione. Instantly, as if from the depth of his memories a black door seemed to materialize in front of his eyes; a door with a nameplate in silver –Regulus Arcturus Black.

"Regulus Arcturus Black, Harry! Regulus! Sirius's brother!" he said excitedly.

"Sirius's brother?" asked Hermione confused.

"Are you sure?" asked Harry, and Ron literally jumped up from his seat. Hadn't he spent days walking past that room as he entered Hermione's during their stay in Grimmauld Place?

"Yes, that is definitely his name. I've seen that plank a hundred times. We don't know of any other RAB, do we?" he asked the others.

"No, we don't..." mused Harry, looking slightly better than a while before. "But wasn't he a Death Eater? And Sirius said he panicked and was killed..."

"But Sirius also said, no one knew how or when he was killed," provided Ron and Hermione looked between the two of them while she still sat on the couch with the letter in front of her on the table.

"It is possible, you know?" she said slowly, glancing intently at the gold locket in her hands. "Maybe he got to know about it, the Horcruxes, I mean, and changed his mind? Maybe he located the locket? But –"

"But?" asked the boys in unison.

"I can't figure out how he would have escaped that Inferi infested cave alive. Harry, you just said you had to feed Dumbledore the potion because it weakened him and he was unable to do so himself. If it was indeed Regulus, how did he manage to escape in that condition?"

"Do you- Are you suggesting that he didn't escape and you know..." asked Ron, revolted at the image that cropped up in his mind.

"-drowned with the locket?" finished Harry for him.

"Let's hope, nothing of the sort happened." She replied grimly and exhaled soundly before continuing. "We need to finish the Horcruxes to finish the Dark Lord and if it is indeed inside an Inferi infested lake, it is quite possibly more securely hidden now than it was in the basin Dark Lord kept it in." She finished, contemplating.

They looked at each other grasping the full impact of the situation, and Ron ran his fingers through his hair.

"Why do I feel we are missing something?" stated Harry looking directly at him, and he could feel that himself. A nagging thought, that the answer was right in front of his eyes but just beyond reach.

"Maybe Grimmauld Place holds the answer." Muttered Hermione almost to herself, and once again, the boys exclaimed together.

"The locket!"

"What locket?!" she asked astounded, and they briefly explained to her about the articles they had found while cleaning the Black House back in their fifth year, along with all the other things that had tried killing and maiming the lot of them.

"Well, that's great news!" she beamed. "Maybe all that was to stop the Dark Lord from getting the locket? But where is it now?" she asked eagerly and noticed how the boys paled at that statement.

"It was thrown into a bin to be discarded..." managed Ron, and looked aghast at his best mate. _How could they be so close and yet fail?!_

"Wait... Wait... Hold on!" muttered Harry as he paced around the room frantically. "Kreacher!" he said suddenly, clapping Ron on the shoulder, eyes blazing with determination.

"Remember he kept collecting the things we threw away?" he asked, and Ron nodded furiously.

"Do you think I should call him?" asked the younger boy. He seemed to be itching for action and Ron could not blame him. But before he could answer, Hermione beat him to it.

"No!" she yelled, looking fearful.

"No?!" asked Harry incredulously as he strode down to take the single seat, and Ron looking at the two, joined them quickly, taking his place next to Hermione.

"No," She said shaking a little, fighting to control herself but not quite being able to manage it. Ron ached to hold her hand and pull her into his arms but refrained.

"What's wrong, Hermione?" he asked softly, and she looked at him fearfully before answering.

"Dumbledore was the Secret Keeper for the place, wasn't he? And now everyone who was told of its location has become a Secret Keeper themselves including P-Professor Snape. He knew of its location... It's not safe anymore..." she said looking down at her lap while Harry gave out an angry growl followed by a low muttering, which Ron could just about identify as a few of his swear words.

"That Snape was a Death Eater is not your fault, Hermione," He told her sternly and loud enough for Harry to hear. "You may belong to Slytherin but if he or that ferret chooses to follow the Dark side, it does not make _you_ responsible in any way."

There was a minute when he saw not just gratitude but something much more soft and deep in those chocolate coloured pools before Harry spoke up and they looked away.

"But that means, we can't contact Kreacher either!"

"You can call him. He still belongs to you." She told Harry.

"What if they side along with him?" provided Ron.

"Yes, that could happen." She agreed.

"So we are stuck at a dead end then?" asked Harry angrily.

"No, Mate, we aren't. You are forgetting there are others in this too- the Order," said Ron. "They will surely know what to do to keep him out and reinforce the protection on the house again. We just have to hold on till then."

"And what do we do till then? Just sit back?" Harry asked after staring a good long time at his best mate.

"We have to Harry, you are still under the Trace." Hermione reminded him kindly.

"We need to talk to McGonagall first," injected Ron. "We have to sort out Hermione's security arrangement, especially now that he knows she is alive."

"Quite possibly he has known it right from the beginning," She said biting her lower lips in anguish.

"And yet he has not attempted anything?" mused Harry aloud.

"Perhaps because it was too risky with Dumbledore around?" Reasoned Ron as tension mounted in him.

"Are you saying that he was waiting for this?" asked Harry, and Ron turned to meet Hermione's eyes before he answered.

"Who knows, Mate?" he said and continued to look intently at her unperturbed by Harry's presence, and although she appeared to be slightly conscious at first, she looked right back at him after a while. There was no knowing what future held for them, _what future held for her_ , but he knew one thing- Dumbledore had left him a mission and he was going to fulfil it no matter what he had to face or who he had to guard her against. He hoped she saw that promise in his eyes.

...

Minerva McGonagall stood in front of the portrait of her long-time friend and colleague, Albus Dumbledore as the man in the portrait snoozed in his high-back chair. For years, this room had held a special place in her heart, not because it was the Headmaster's office but because it was here that she spent some of the best times of her teaching career, having some of the most thought-provoking discussions with the man who was definitely a genius of their age. And yet, today she could not help doubt his razor sharp brain and intellect. How could he make such a mistake? How could he place his trust in such a wrong man? What did future hold for them and the students of Hogwarts now that the accent of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was inevitable?

Professor McGonagall was not a weak woman by any stretch of the imagination, but now, standing here in the face of a dark future she could not help but be overcome with grief and fear, not for herself, but for the hundreds and thousands who would suffer in these dark times. She feared for the safety of her students who were almost like her own children and knew that some, if not all, would suffer way more than children like them should ever have to. And she grieved that no matter how much she tried, she would not be able to keep everyone safe.

A gentle knock sounded behind her and she turned around to occupy the chair that was hers and called the person to enter. Three people, who were currently at the top of her concern list, entered silently one behind the other. She noticed them glance at her and then look at the portrait of Dumbledore hanging behind her, and her stern appearance faltered slightly. _They are just children, Albus._ She murmured to herself and composing herself, called them to occupy three empty chairs in front of her.

She directed her attention to the youngest in the group first.

"Harry, I expect you to tell me what happened last night," she said coming straight to the point, and he recounted his account almost in a practiced manner, making her guess that he had retold his story at least a few times by now. The unperturbed look on the other two indicated that it wasn't the first time for them.

"That does not answer what you and Professor Dumbledore were doing when you left the school, Harry." she stated when he was done and noticed the boy turn at his friends before straightening up slightly to reply.

"I'm sorry Professor, but I can't tell you that," He replied politely but with finality and Minerva found herself losing her cool at his words.

"Harry, it must be important!" she said sternly.

"It is," said Harry, "very important in fact, but he did not want me to tell anyone," He added stubbornly.

She glared at him this time, "Potter, you must know that now with the death of the Headmaster, the situations are different-"

"I don't think so," replied the boy who looked every bit like his father, extremely brave and obstinate at the same time, "He did not ask me to stop following his orders if he died."

"But-"

"Please Professor, I can't tell you anything else," He replied and she noticed, yet again, how behind those features that were so strikingly James, the essence of Lily emanated from him, that same selflessness and purity of the soul that reflected in those green eyes. With a sigh and her brows still scrunched, she turned at the other two.

"Why is Miss Granger out of her chambers, Ronald? Surely you know the present situation has made her security even more crucial?" she asked sternly.

There was no flicker of discomfort from the boy who at eleven had defeated her magical chessboard, a feat which she had accepted in front of Dumbledore, showed his true potential. Somehow, he always reminded her more than slightly of Sirius Black, the same sense of recklessness, the disregard for school rules and a general tendency to be lazy in matters of academics. But having taught both of them for years, she knew that neither Sirius nor Ron was dumb or stupid, they simply found more interest in pursuing adventures beyond the scope of books. One more marked similarity between the two was their unwavering loyalty towards their friends. Ever since Sirius's innocence came to the fore three years back, in her mind, Harry and Ron were James and Sirius of this generation, each would die to protect the other. No matter what her outer demure showed, she felt almost motherly to these two boys who were always the ones to get into trouble but more often than not, ended up saving the day. It annoyed her and made her worry about their safety just as much it made her feel proud of them.

"There has been a problem at that end, Professor," He said quietly after glancing once at the girl sitting next to him. Slowly, he recounted the event of the previous night and Minerva couldn't help hold the table out of sheer shock. She could not be more glad that Dumbledore had placed some kind of backup mechanism in place, but why on earth he would have to think of his death was something she could not figure out. Perhaps he was just taking regular precautions? She stared at the girl who sat a little more consciously than the two boys.

Hermione Granger was a model student, and Minerva, being an unbiased teacher as she was, felt fondly for the girl. The feelings had only intensified after the poor soul lost her parents and was forced to live in a prisoner kind of arrangement. But the false allegations she had put up against Ronald had disturbed Minerva greatly, and she could not fathom the reasons for Albus's insistence that the girl would turn over to their side eventually, and that too, because of Ron. But she had seen that change for herself. The girl who came down for her apparition lessons was not the Hermione Granger from before. And, the one who sat next to Ronald today was someone else altogether.

"I can't begin to tell you how thankful I am to see you both safe," She said with a sigh of relief. "I'll have to get in touch with the others and see where we can shift you now that Grimmauld Place is not so safe anymore," She said lost in contemplation.

"Professor, we will need Hermione, Dumbledore left us a task." Injected Harry and looked at his two friends. The Headmistress sent them a calculating look.

"You will have to return at least once to your Uncle and Aunt's place, Harry. Dumbledore was always insistent on it." She said.

"I know," he replied frustrated, "But Professor, we need her," He said softly.

"Professor, isn't it possible that she be shifted to the Burrow?" Harry turned to Ron at the latter's request, and his eyes glanced over Hermione. She was looking at Ron with such tenderness in her eyes that he looked away immediately and turned instead towards their Headmistress. She too was watching the two closely.

"Where was Miss Granger the last night?" she asked suddenly and Harry had an urge to run away from the room. Ron's ears were turning red and Hermione was resolutely looking at her lap. Harry could not decide what he was supposed to do or say. Of course, he would never disclose that he strongly doubted that his two friends, quite possibly, shared something crucial the previous night. But he wasn't really surprised or upset. For some reason, Dumbledore himself had wanted them to come close.

"She was- " began Ron, now growing steadily pink in the face but looking straight at the Headmistress.

"- inside Ronald's bed, protected by strong enchantments." Provide Hermione quickly and Harry noticed the older witch's eyebrows rise high up her forehead.

"Mr. Weasley, you do know how strongly against the school rules such a thing is?! Why could you not approach any of the other teachers?" she cried incredulously, and Harry forced himself to stifle a laugh that even in such dire situations, Professor McGonagall was appalled at the idea of breaking school rules. It was almost a Hermionish trait.

"It's not like you think, Professor. Ron spent the night in the Gryffindor common room..." she added in a small whisper. Harry was glad to notice that the Headmistress, busy observing Hermione had completely missed the look of surprise on Ron's face. By the time the senior witch turned at the ginger, he had arranged his expression from shock to polite embarrassment.

"Ah... Alright then," said the elderly lady, and seemed to think for a while. "Miss Granger, I think it will be safest for you to stay here for now. I will talk to the rest of the Order and we have to take a quick call about your accommodation, considering all students will be leaving in the evening after the," she fumbled and took a few minutes to compose herself before finishing her statement, "-funeral." Harry could feel himself choking up at the word.

"Off you go, boys. You will be notified of the final arrangement." She said and as Harry picked himself up, he glanced once at the portrait of Dumbledore who was still dozing peacefully as if making up for the sleep he lost during his lifetime.

"Come on, Ron," he called, and the taller boy followed him somewhat reluctantly after glancing once at the girl who stood behind with an equally agonized look in her eyes.

* * *

 **A/N:** Thank you for reading. A feedback will be highly appreciated.


	36. A Different Kind of Home

**A/N:** A story is nothing if there aren't people to listen (in this case, read) it. You all really make the hard work of writing worth it, and more by your comments and following this piece like you do.

I am going to miss writing and sharing these three weeks. So, if possible, I'll try posting the next chapter during the trip, ( _if possible.)_

Enjoy and please don't forget that review.

All Characters belong to JKR.

* * *

 **Chapter 35: A Different Kind of Home**

The books dropped inside the trunk with a soft thud as Harry picked up the remaining of his belongings from his bed, and stacked them as perfectly as he could. He was trying extremely hard to concentrate on the mundane task of packing his trunk so as not to think or feel the soreness of his heart. He had done what he always knew he had to, break up with Ginny, but a part of him seemed to protest vehemently against his decision. He knew this was the right thing to do, and he knew Ginny understood, but it did not make him feel any less guilty or less miserable for that matter. It was as if the funeral had been a threshold to begin a new journey, one which he would have to take on alone without her. He had to try and reach the goal just like in those muggle video games he sneaked in and played on Dudley's computer years ago on those rare days when the Dursley's left him alone at home. Only, here there was no scope for re-tries, no extra lives to cash on if he failed. He could not even stop for a moment. He would just have to go on till he won, or died trying. Noticing that he had paused with a couple of parchments and an inkpot still in his hand, he placed them into the trunk, feeling without having to look around, the furious pacing of his best mate behind him.

Ron had been doing that since he had got back from the funeral. The rest of the boys had packed their belongings and long left the dorm. Ron had finished packing too. Only it could not be called so much of packing as he had literally picked and dropped his things inside his trunk, and forced it close with a sticking charm. And, ever since then, he had been pacing up and down the dorm, muttering expletives under his breath.

"How long will they take to decide on one ruddy thing?!" he scowled after what Harry decided was a decent amount of time for him.

"What are you talking about?" he asked, although he thought he had a pretty good guess.

"Come on, Mate!" Ron said angrily, and sat down on his messed up bed, running his long fingers through his hair. "She needs a place to stay, and Burrow has been the temporary headquarters for the Order before when Grimmauld Place was being scanned for security leaks. So, why not now? Why can't they just take her there and be done with it?"

Under different circumstances, Harry might have perhaps used this as a golden opportunity to tease Ron but, after all the recent events, he could not bring himself to do it. In fact, he understood. Wouldn't he have felt the same if it had been Ginny? Yes he would, he would want her to be with him all the time so that he could keep her safe.

"They will have to put up a lot of protections around the Burrow for that, Ron. You know Voldemort. He will not flinch before harming all of you to get to her if need be." He thought of Ginny again and squirmed at his own words.

"He won't be able to lay his filthy hands on her while I am alive." Muttered Ron in a strong undertone and Harry looked back at his best friend in shock. The words weren't the ones to surprise him, the confession was. Ron was not exactly a person known for speaking about his inner feelings unless he felt very deeply about it. But now as Harry's eyes continued to bore into his, he seemed to get a little conscious and averted the gaze.

"Dumbledore always maintained that she was a great asset, and had to be kept out of their reach. We can't fail him, I-I can't fail him. We need her for this, Harry. She will help you win." He added softly, almost in a way of explanation.

"Is that all, Ron?" he asked probing a little, but the taller guy simply looked away, watching what was once Harry's door to her chambers.

"Yes." He said after a long time, and Harry did nothing but looked at that pale, freckled face once before turning away to shut his now neatly packed trunk.

...

Two days later- Ottery St. Catchpole

Hermione came down the staircase, walking extra softly so as to not wake up the sleeping household. The sun had not risen yet but a faint glow lit up the far horizon. The steps creaked under her feet, and she held on to the railing cautiously. This house was a far cry from anything she had ever set foot in, and yet, this was one of the warmest of places she had ever lived in. The entire place, no matter how shabby or worn down, was intrinsically Weasley. Even in these dark times, it was powerfully resilient, cosy, and full of love, life and hope.

The family had easily pulled her in like one of their own. Molly fussed over her like she did for Ginny, and Arthur reminded her so strongly of her father that she had a tough time keeping her tears in check. There was a stark difference, though. While Granger Senior's priority had always been upholding the traditions, no matter how much he adored his daughter, the oldest Weasley seemed to put nothing but his family's well-being and happiness on the top of the chart. She spent a major part of the day with Ginny who was markedly different from her lively self post her breakup with Harry. And it pained Hermione to watch the younger girl who hardly allowed anyone to see her tears, although it was evident that she struggled to control herself frequently. And despite it all, she was a great companion. But the more the family cared, the worse she felt for putting them in such great peril just by her presence in their home. She had tried telling the same to Molly but had received a particularly sound but motherly telling off. The Weasley matriarch made it clear in no uncertain terms that they were all together in this and whether be it Harry or she they were safer when with the family and she wanted no further questions on this. That had practically cut off all arguments Hermione might have had.

Once at the kitchen, she placed the book she was carrying on the table before pulling out a teabag and setting up the kettle to boil. She had been unable to sleep for more than a few hours in the past few days. The last she remembered having had a solid nap was in the boys' dormitory, wrapped in Ron's embrace. Her face coloured at the memory, and it was the soft whistle of the kettle that drew her out of her reverie. Pouring the hot liquid into the mug, she brought it to the table and pulled a chair for herself.

She opened the book, glancing over the pages not taking in a single word, as the events of the last day at Hogwarts crept up on her yet again.

 _She watched the funeral from a window high up in the Headmistress' office and even without hearing the voice of the small wizard who overlooked the service, she could feel the grief and hopelessness pour out of the crowd that gathered to honour their fallen hero. All she could hear was the phoenix song; the sound somehow seemed to percolate through the walls and resound inside her heart. Silent tears rolled down her eyes and she craved to hold on to someone as the service progressed. Dumbledore looked eerily peaceful as he was put to rest and the tomb sealed itself. Finally, when it was over, she watched Harry and Ginny leave the mass holding hands, only to disappear towards the forest. Her eyes scanned the crowd for that flaming red hair, and sure enough, she found him on a bench close to where Harry had been sitting earlier hidden behind Hagrid's massive frame. She could not see his face but the pain seemed to be visible in his very form. It was a long while and most of the people had already left when Harry returned and called for him. The boys left together leaving nothing but the new snow-white tomb alone in the familiar landscape._

 _It had been an excruciatingly long wait as she heard people trickle into the Headmistress' main office while she remained inside the room temporarily assigned to her. It was much too dangerous to come out yet as there were still plenty of Ministry officials who were present. And it was only after a couple or so hours passed, that she was called._

 _The crowd that remained was a familiar one, although an air of heavy grief hung around the room. Her eyes roamed around at all the faces till she met those blue ones, and she realised she was subconsciously looking out specifically for those all this time. He looked worn out, but there was a distinct fierceness behind those eyes as they looked back at her. For a moment there, all she wanted was to run into him and crash onto that familiar warmth but Mad-eye began to speak again, and she turned around at him instead._

" _We have a lot to decide, Minerva and Harry's security is our primary concern here." He huffed as if a part of the discussion had already taken place before she had been called._

" _But this is just as important!" replied the old but fierce witch. "Albus always said she needed to be kept safe," she added, and with her heart sinking, Hermione realised that she was the topic of discussion here. The general atmosphere was a clear indication that her safety, or she herself perhaps, was the cause of a difference in opinions here. It made her extremely uncomfortable, and she sat looking at her lap avoiding the group of Aurors and Order members both young and old._

" _Dumbledore always said Snape was to be trusted too," growled the old man, and her heart sank in further. She could put up a lot of arguments, say that she was never a Death Eater in the first place so they ought not to compare her with her old professor, but she sat silent because, how much could she defend herself, really? She could not generate trust by arguments, not during these delicate times when the one they had given a chance for redemption, had broken their trust so ruthlessly. It was a familiar voice that spoke up in a horrifyingly familiar tone, but the anger was not directed towards her. She looked up to see Harry place a hand on Ron to pull him back, but the taller boy was already on his feet, facing a furious looking Moody._

" _DON'T COMPARE HER TO HIM!" He shook off his best friend's hand with a swipe of his own, fury rendering his face a familiar shade of red._

" _She has proved herself! He had tests for her, and she passed each one of them. Ask Harry if you don't believe me! Hermione has as much desire to join the dark side as any of us, and she is the one who is in danger, less than Harry of course but certainly more than us. You can't put her up just anywhere."_

" _I am not talking about putting her up 'just anywhere'! I know that will endanger the Order, Weasley!" barked Mad-eye ominously, but Ron seemed too far gone to back down._

" _IT'S NOT JUST ABOUT THE BLOODY ORDER!" he snapped back. "It's as much about saving her or does the Order not care anymore about innocent lives? That doesn't make us any better than You-Know-Who's minions, does it?" He towered over the older man but then Ron towered over most of the people they knew and yet the rage coming out of the old Auror was palpable in the air. Surprisingly, or not so surprisingly perhaps, Ron looked equally mutinous if not more._

" _Ron, calm down," came the controlled voice of Remus, and Kingsley repeated the same words to his one-time senior._

" _You have to understand. This is important!" the desperation in Ron's voice as he spoke to Remus, almost broke her heart._

" _Ron is right, every word." The crowd turned towards Harry who stood up and placed a firm hand on his best mate's back._

" _You can't doubt her for what Snape did. Dumbledore never told anyone why he trusted Snape, did he? But we know he tested Hermione. Three tests which she was not even aware he had set up for her. And she passed them all. Moreover, Snape was an accomplished Occulmen. He could easily hide his true intentions, but Hermione couldn't. He was already working for Voldemort in the first place, but she lost her parents to him. How can you compare them at all?" he asked the group in general, and Hermione could feel the love and gratitude she felt for the two choke her up._

" _Alastor, they are right." added the Headmistress finally, looking intently at the two boys who had practically grown up in front of her eyes into strong young men._

 _She tuned out almost all of the conversation that had followed after that, her eyes watched nothing but Ron's face. The way he looked back at her told her that no matter what he thought of her, whether he believed her confession on not, he would not abandon her. She knew he could easily wrap her life around him, and live happily without caring if she had anything else or not._

The gentle footsteps entering the kitchen brought her out of her thoughts, and she smiled weakly at the elderly witch.

"Up early again, dear?" she asked in that odd sort of understanding that mothers usually have.

"Yes..." she said softly.

"Would you like me to fix another cup for you?" asked Molly, as she pulled out a couple of mugs Hermione now knew, was for the older couple, a tradition of the Weasley Seniors. She declined politely wondering how to place the request she had on her lips.

"Is Ginny sleeping or she is up too?" asked Molly as she poured the water into two cups and dropped in cubes of sugar.

"She is sleeping, and I didn't wish to wake her up," She replied. She could not tell Molly the truth that her daughter had spent most of the night sniffing into her pillow for the raven haired boy who had decided to keep his personal feelings for her aside for the good of the wizard kind. Hermione felt terrible for the girl she had begun to love like her sister, but she knew that there was nothing else she could expect from Harry. Words Ron had said right after the two had gotten together rang in her ears. He had been right.

Molly had almost left the kitchen when she haltingly called back.

"Mrs. Weasley, I was wondering if... you know... I could just take a walk outside..."

Molly gave her a shocked look which she hoped was not an indication of a negative answer.

"I- actually, I haven't been outside in months..." she said in a way of explanation. Almost a year now, she thought to herself. The Burrow had been given the utmost amount of protection, and it was almost as impenetrable as they could make it. Well, yes, there possibly were dark spells that could break it, but Kingsley had assured that as long as the Dark Lord had not taken over the Ministry, they were safe. She shuddered to think of the outcome if that happened, but she held onto the threadbare ends of hope. And yet, she had not ventured outside because having been in confinement for so long had made her feel that she ought to have permission to leave the house. It was almost the way she had felt when she was a child and followed her family traditions and rules that were set for her to follow irrefutably.

Molly had placed the mugs on the table, and a soft sigh escaped from the elderly witch's lips as she placed a gentle palm on the side of Hermione's face. It was a heavy voice that answered.

"You are no prisoner, dear. You don't need our permission to go outside the house. Just stay within the wards, okay?" she said with a sad, knowing smile and Hermione lowered her eyes because the understanding in those wizened eyes was so deep that it hurt to look at.

"Thank you," She said softly.

Molly patted her cheeks lovingly before picking up the tea again. "Breakfast will be ready by eight," She said as she left the room.

...

Hermione sat on a broken stump by the small pool that was at the centre of the orchard around the Burrow. For once, she sat without flipping through the pages of the book, and it lay forgotten next to her. Legs stretched in front, and rest of her body tilted back, she soaking in the silence and the soft sound of the surrounding. Birds chirped in the background and leaves fluttered in the soft breeze. It was not a bright day, the sun merely peeped out once in a while from behind the clouds that were steady beginning to cover the sky. The cool breeze created ripples in the pool adding a very pleasant music that could only be heard when one sat in total silence like she did now. She took in deep, slow breaths, relishing the mixed fragrances and feeling a little more alive every minute.

That was how he found her.

He stood behind one of the larger trees, simply watching her relax. Her hair, which for once, she had left untied, fell back till her waist in tight curls swinging softly with the breeze, and he drank in the peace of the moment which he knew, would only get more and more scarce as days went by. It was a relief beyond words to have her here at his home. Those few hours during and after Dumbledore's funeral had been excruciating and only then had he realised how accustomed he had got to seeing her whenever he wanted. She had become a habit. A need and an addiction. When or how that had happened, he had no clue but the cause was beside the point anyway.

Did it bother him that she saw the kind place he belonged to? Did it bother him that she saw that his house was a far cry from where she hailed? It did, and that was exactly what he had tried explaining to her, hadn't he? And yet, she looked so much at peace here on the tiny piece of land he had spent his childhood in, that for once, he wished to question his own stance. But something, or rather a thought of someone, had stopped him and reminded that this was not the hour for such wishful thinking, not for Harry, nor for him and neither for Hermione.

"Mum calls you for breakfast," he said softly, noticing the blush that crept up her skin on hearing his voice. She pulled her legs in consciously and arranged the long gown that had risen inches above her calf.

"Oh." She replied and ran her finger through her curls to tuck them behind her ears. Picking up the ribbon that lay inside the closed book, she made to tie her locks.

"Don't...Just let it be," He was sure the shock in her eyes mirrored in his own. Where had that come from? Yes, he was definitely thinking about it, but he wasn't really planning on saying it aloud. He could feel his skin begin to redden, and rubbed the back of his neck in embarrassment, still wondering what he ought to say to make it sound right. Deciding that the snitch was lost already, so to speak, he kept mum instead.

Once she had overcome her own surprise, she stood up and picked the book, holding it close to her chest like a shield. Without another word, she walked towards the canopy of trees and he followed in her wake. It was hard not to remember another instance where they had been in similar surroundings, only then, it was a part of a magic, and the trees and foliage there were hell-bent on trying to kill them.

"This reminds me of the ... Room of Requirements." She said in a quiet voice, and he took a long stride to walk next to her.

"Me too," He replied softly.

"I still wonder why you saved me that night. Especially when you knew I was..." she kept the sentence hanging, but he knew what she meant anyway.

"I had to," He replied glancing at her. She met his eyes as if requesting him to go on but Ron looked away as they walked slowly towards the house.

"And you took care of me when I was so broken. Not just once, many times over," She said after a while in almost a whisper, and he did not reply because, well, it wasn't exactly a question, was it?

"Why did you stand up so strongly for my protection, Ron?" Well, it was a direct question this time.

"I take it you are not sorry I did?" he replied, and smirked to himself noticing the flair up in her eyes. But then he looked away and gazed instead at the leaves and twigs crunching under his shoes.

"I am not. I do want to know why, though? Why do you pretend to care when you don't? Why do you doubt if you so vehemently say that you trust?" She had stopped walking, and he noticed it a while later resulting in him being a few steps ahead of her. He turned around and watched that face which was now displaying many emotions at once; anger and frustration but also a plea and perhaps just a tiny amount of hope?

Ron noticed she had slunk back slightly to rest her back against the rough bark of an old oak tree, and it was of their own accord that his legs carried him towards her.

She looked up at him stubbornly, trying to hide the pain which he knew he was causing her. He craved so much to touch her that it was almost physically painful. He tried to think of all the reasons he had given her, reasons he hadn't voiced out but knew in his heart, he tried thinking of Harry and the war, but as those brown orbs bore into his, all reasons seem to fade away from him. He placed a tentative but possessive palm on the side of her face. She jerked his hand away on touch, and he tried telling himself that she was hurting a whole lot worse than he felt at her rejection.

"Don't patronize me, Ronald Weasley!" she cried softly, angry tears pooling in her eyes that she wiped away hastily with the back of her hand.

"I am not patronizing you, Hermione," He said, a touch of sadness seeping into his voice.

"Don't show you care if you don't!" she spat in a watery voice. "Just go back to being your rude, arrogant, insufferable self," she added.

"Do you really want that, Hermione?" he asked in a quiet voice.

"You don't really care what I want, do you, Ron? But if you must know, I'll tell you that I want a resolution. On one hand, you don't believe me. You think I am delusional, or something. And on the other, you take up the scariest Auror to fight for my protection. You notice if I am eating or just playing with my food, you check on me when you think I am not looking, you come out just to see if I am safe and lie that your Mum called me, when she already told me that breakfast will be served at eight. I don't suppose it's even seven now."

He looked away sheepishly. But it seemed she wasn't finished yet.

"Why show you care when you really don't? It hurts Ron, it hurts really bad..." she said miserably, and his heart broke watching her.

He was closer to her even before he realised it himself.

"Who says I don't care?" he murmured in a strained whisper against her lips. He expected to be pushed away, heck, he wanted to move away, but he had already encased her against the tree, hands resting a little away from her shoulders.

"Do you care?" she asked looking him in the eye, and he noticed how her lashes curled upward.

"Can't you tell?" he asked ruggedly, as his eyes threatened to flutter shut in the bliss of having her so close again.

"No, I can't!" She answered, angrily. "At times I think I can read you like an open book, and on others, I feel I barely know you. It is infuriating, Ron!"

He smirked openly this time, although a part of his brain knew that she would probably hex him into the next century for being such a prat. But he couldn't help it, she looked so downright adorable. He looked at her lips. _Delectable too_ , said his brain.

His lips met hers in the softest of touches, and his eyes instantly fluttered shut at her taste. Merlin knew, he had craved her each and every minute in these two days. But then, suddenly he was thrown away by a strong Shield Charm that made him crash into the tree behind him, and he land soundly on the ground on his arse.

"I AM _NOT_ YOUR PLAYTHING, RONALD WEASLEY!" She screeched furiously, and stormed away towards the house.

...

* * *

 **A/N:** Thanks for reading!


	37. A New Mission

**A/N:** I truly feel overwhelmed by the reviews I have received recently. Thank you all from the bottom of my heart for the amount of love you have given this story.

I am still not back, and due to unavoidable circumstances away from my beloved laptop. This chapter and quite a few if the subsequent ones will be posted from my phone. I am posting only because I have received so many messages asking me to update. I hope you all will be able to overlook the typos and other errors. Promise to edit it once I get back.

 **Characters rights belong to JKR**

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 **Chapter** **36** **:** **A New Mission**

Hermione stopped speaking to Ron completely after her little outburst, concentrating rather on reading the books she had managed to pack, and spending the rest of her time with Molly or Ginny. But no matter how hard she tried, she could not stop thinking about, or noticing the youngest Weasley male who had captured her heart for good. The same man who had gone back to being his aloof and silent self once again. It was hard to say if the family had noticed the lack of any interaction between the apparent friends, or perhaps, each one was unnerved themselves to notice the tension between them.

His behaviour still frustrated her. She knew he was still looking out for her, her subconscious seemed to sense him out even when he was being too discreet, and the contradictory emotions she felt about his behaviour irked her to no ends. But if she was honest enough to herself, she knew that Ron had tried, and quite a few times at that. He had genuinely attempted to talk to her and she had purposely ignored his approach, her heart hell bent on making him try a little harder, to show that she wasn't the one to be pushed around. But after a few times, Ron had simply stopped making any further attempts of trying to catch her alone or start a conversation as he had done earlier. What he thought or felt was difficult to say, and the whole situation was maddening to say the least.

A week after the incident and once again, she found herself sitting alone by the side of the pool. The sun was beginning to disappear and she knew she had to get indoors soon or Molly would send someone out to call her back. Thinking back on a few selected memories all of which featured a certain red-haired someone, she cast the spell Harry had taught her and Ron had helped her practice. The familiar silver otter burst out of her wand and began to circle around her leaving its silvery, wispy trail in its wake. She wondered why hers was an otter. Other than the fact that it was her favourite animal she could not really relate anything. Harry's was a mirror of his father, something like a guardian angel that kept him safe, and Ron's was a Jack Russell Terrier, the features of which matched his personality so fluidly. It was a few minutes before she realised that her thoughts had once again returned to the same person she was trying to keep from thinking about.

Soft crunching sound behind her made her turn out sharply, and the frolicking otter disappeared with a pop, leaving her feeling suddenly alone and unguarded, before a mop of red hair was visible emerging from behind the trees and she both relaxed and groaned in disappointment at the new arrival.

"Did I scare you?" asked the familiar figure with a mischievous grin, Hermione picking herself up and walking towards him.

"No, more like caught me off guard," she replied trying not to feel upset that her base intention for staying back had yielded no result.

"When did you guys come down?" she asked in polite conversation as the young man next to her walked along, matching his steps with hers, not taking his eyes off her.

"A while back," replied Fred. "The Order is meeting in a while to discuss binging down Harry."

She stopped watching the leaves and twigs scattered ground to turn sharply at him.  
"It's today, isn't it?" she asked in part shock, part realization.

"Yes, Mad-eye has called for this meeting and it seems this one is going to be exciting." He grinned back.

Well, exciting wouldn't probably be the word she would use, nerve-wracking was more like it. But she was determined to be in the heart of the action this time no matter how scary the proposition was. They walked in silence the rest of the way but she could feel his eyes on her.

"Something wrong between you and Ronnie?" he asked when they had almost reached the edge of the trees, and for the second time, she turned at him sharply only to look away in embarrassment as his knowing eyes grinned back at her.

"No, nothing like that..." she stuttered looking away but he only laughed loudly at her response.

"Well, you both are hopeless," he said wiping the tears of mirth out of his eyes, "and fantastically amusing if I may add."

They were now at the clearing that housed the Burrow and she could see the tall, somewhat crooked house standing ahead. Hermione wondered if it would be all the more stupid to dash away from the grinning twin.

"Well, you know, we have promised Harry not to tease Ron about this," he indicated towards her, and she knew she was blushing profusely now at the bland statement, "but we never promised anything more." He smiled naughtily as he edged closer, and, by instinct, she backed away, confusion marring her features. He came close enough to block her view of the house but far enough to be able to her. Placing his arm next to her, he picked up a twig from her hair and handed it to her, and she took it from him in silent confusion.

"Thank me next time." He added with a grin before turning away and walking off as she stood bewildered with her back against an old oak.

..

It took her a few minutes to snap out of the strange event, and she had taken barely a few steps towards the house when another redhead walked out of the kitchen door, banging the wood loudly behind him. She watched him come towards her in quick strides, and was shocked to see the fury that emanated from him. A part of her was terrified with the amount of joy she felt on seeing him, even if it was a mirror of his old fuming self.

"What are you doing out so late?" Ron demanded in a slow menacing whisper when he was close enough, and it took her not more than a minute to snap out and glare at him before looking away and taking steps to walk away. A sudden grasp on her wrist stopped her, forcing Hermione to face him again.

"I am asking you a bloody question!" he fumed and she tried jerking her hand out of his grasp.

"Leave my hand."

"Answer me first."

"I am not answerable to you, Ron!" she snapped and the eyes that were boring into hers fiercely, softened slightly as did the hold on her wrist. She didn't know what caused it but it might have been on hearing his name from her after days.

"No, you aren't," he said softly, and she couldn't help feeling a little desperate to ease the tension between them.

"Don't stay out so late, Mum gets worried," he added and she felt her heart twitch as she looked at the face she loved so madly, no matter how much the person behind it infuriated her. She chose not to comment but walked ahead slowly away from him realising that he followed closely in her wake.

...

The plan was put forward and generally accepted by all, and yet, Ron couldn't help feeling slightly troubled. Could they really trust Mundungus? After all, hadn't Harry almost strangulated the thief last year for stealing articles from Grimmauld Place?

He stood with his back resting the wall next to the shelf, and glanced around at the assembled Order members who were taking up every little space in their cramped living room, his eyes automatically seeking her out. She looked back at him with the same concern in her eyes, and Ron realised that, despite all their differences, they were in this together and nothing had changed that.

"We need volunteers for the six Potter impersonators," barked Moody looking around the room, and he raised his hand automatically before glancing around at the others.

As expected, the twins had raised their hands, and he noted with surprise that so had Fleur. So that made four. A slight gasp from his mother made him turn towards his left where Hermione was wedged between his mother and Tonks on their threadbare couch.

She had her hand raised.

He glared hard at her direction, willing her to look at him, willing her to lower her hand. She shifted consciously but ignored him.

"We have five volunteers. We need one more." came Remus's voice and he could feel himself stiffen.

Why _wasn't anyone objecting against this barmy idea? For Merlin sake, she was a target herself! What kind of a fucking insane plan was this anyway?_

He concentrated on breathing deeply through his nose without breaking his gaze. Ron could briefly make out Moody barking out instructions at Dung who, by the sound of it, was adamant not to be the sixth impersonator. He ignored the discussion and continued glaring at her. She would meet his eyes eventually, he knew she would. She always knew when he was watching her.

He watched her lick her lips and _finally,_ brown orbs met his blue ones in a stern mutiny. He shook his head infinitesimally and she glanced away for a moment before meeting his gaze again, this time with unflinching determination.

The meeting was coming to a close, the senior members now discussing various tactics and plans to leave false trails for the Death Eaters but his mind was elsewhere.

"Hermione won't be a part of this." he announced suddenly and noticed the room go silent while all heads turned towards him. He turned to face Remus and Kingsley.

"She is as much a target as Harry. We can't risk it," he reasoned strongly as the two seniors glanced between themselves. But before either of them could speak, Hermione snapped as she pushed herself free from the tight space.

"That is for me to decide since it's my life on the line." she retorted angrily and Ron barely held himself back from pulling her away and locking her up to stop this idiocy.

"She is right." piped up Tonks.

"She is a bloody target!" he snapped.

"So what do you want me to do? Sit back and watch everytime? In case you haven't noticed, we are in the middle of a war, and getting Harry to safety is the priority!"

"Do you think I don't know that?" he retorted angrily. "But Dumbledore -"

"- left you with the responsibility of my security, yes, I've heard that, Ron! But you have no right to decide my life for me." she finished before turning back at the senior members of the Order who were eying them intently so far.

"I am legally an adult and I wish to be a part of this. Harry is my friend." she said boldly.

"Ah, good! Now, let's stop the childish chitchat and work out the details." commanded Moody, and Ron looked at her only once before turning away. She had successfully stopped him with that one statement, that he had no right to decide for her. Yes,it was true and all the more better in their present situation if she felt that way, but it still hurt.

There was nothing he could do to keep her away from it this time, and it worried and irked him in equal measure, causing him to growl in frustration. There was so much he wanted to tell her, so many things to discuss but she wasn't giving him a chance. _How would he ever ensure their safety if she continued to be so stubborn? How would he ever put his plan into action?_

The meeting was coming to a close and people were slowly trickling out of the room. He watched the retreating figure of Tonks who sported a bright purple mane tonight, and he knew he would have to talk to the Auror. If Hermione did actually end up being a part of the rescue squad, she would at least need to be disguised for the first lap of their journey. And going by their plan, it would have to be without Polyjuice because she would need to eventually take the potion to impersonate Harry . Ron wasn't very hopeful that she would agree to anything he said, even if it was just for the sake of contradicting him. It would have to come from someone else and then, maybe she would agree...

...

She walked slowly but purposefully towards the small clearing that held the pool. The moon was bright and high up in the sky, and Hermione had had to wait for a few hours before she found the opportunity to sneak out of the house. Well, what she intended to do did not necessarily require her to be discreet but she wasn't exactly hopeful about the outcome of her little endeavour, and in case she failed, she knew she would prefer to keep it from both Molly and Ginny.

She found him at the edge of the pool. Clad only in his jeans that was folded till his knees, and an undershirt that clung tight on his developing torso, Ron presented an ethereal sight. Biting her lower lip purely out of the nerves that hit her at his sight, she paused for a minute to assess her action one last time.

 _Did she really wish to talk to him? Did she really wish to back down in this battle of wills?_

Maybe she did. After all, wasn't it really immature on her part to cling on to childish squabbles when the world around them was in such deep peril? And, she wasn't really backing down, was she? He was still looking out for her, wasn't he? Hermione was no fool. The suggestion from Tonks that she would need to alter her appearance before leaving for Surrey was actually his idea; she was sure of it.

"Hermione?"

His voice broke through her thoughts and she consciously looked away, realising that Ron had noticed her staring.

"Hi..." she replied softly and he took a while to snap out of his shock. But when he did, he pulled his legs out of the water and grasped around to put on the shirt that appeared to be dumped next to him.

"What are you doing out so late?" he asked walking towards her once he was done. _Why was he playing ignorant? Wasn't it obvious that she had come out to see him during his regular nighttime ritual?_

"Why are you here?" she inquired back. He had reached her and was standing merely a couple of feet away. Hating her eyes that begged to linger on the skin that peeped out of the unbuttoned shirt, she lifted her chin to meet his eyes.

 _Was there a hint of smile? One that hadn't graced his handsome features for days now?_

"I love it here." he replied and then waited as if for her to answer.

Averting her eyes, she looked around and finally walked towards the old oak, the shade of which she preferred during the lazy afternoons she spent in these very same parts. Lowering herself on the ground she looked up at him expectantly.

She waited for him to take his place next to her, both facing the pool, sitting alongside without touching or looking at each other.

"Why don't you want me to go?" she asked without a preamble.

"Because I am worried. Because now, we are risking both your lives. Because I don't know what I can do to keep you both safe..."

Her heart hitched at his words, and she forced herself to keep her mind on all that she had to ask, and not fling herself into his arms, accepting that she was indeed scared and very much so.

"Are you doing this to prove something?" He asked.

"No," she replied slowly.

"If you are doing it just to hear something from me, I swear-"

"- I am doing no such thing, but in case I was, would this work?" she asked despite herself.

He turned towards her and in the moonlight that made his pale features glow, his eyes seemed to pierce through her and reach her soul.

"What do you want to hear, Hermione? Do you want me to accept that I care for you? Because you should know it even if I never tell you. I care enough to wish that I could keep you locked up in my bedroom till we finish this mission. I care enough to wish that I had the right to stop you from trying to prove yourself by putting yourself in the line of fire."

She blushed at his words, and his gaze, and the sight of his chest heaving as he continued to breathe in deeply as he spoke.

"I am not doing it to prove anything, Ron," she whispered softly. He did really care for her, _finally_ , he had accepted it. Suddenly, her heart seemed to be beating harder and everything felt right and perfect.

"Then why?" he exclaimed angrily while those beautiful blue eyes mirrored unadulterated pain. "Do you even realise how hard it is for me?" he asked without breaking her gaze, "Do you realise, the three of us will not be together if something did go wrong?"

"You are worrying too much. They don't know our plan," she said not unkindly, shifting closer and placing her hand on his arms.

He turned around and placed his palms on her upper arms as desperation laced his words.

"I am being realistic. He is no fool. Do you think they aren't watching the Order members? They know each one of us now, Hermione, they have that bloody traitor! They know we have you!" he exclaimed in an almost pained voice.

"We will be okay, Ron... We are prepared, we practiced, remember?" she whispered back as she placed her hand tenderly on his face. He seemed to lean into her touch.

"Not enough..." he whispered ruggedly as he placed his hand over hers. "We are not prepared enough."

"It will always seem that way..."

"No, it is not that. We still don't know how to close our thoughts."

"Occlumency?" she asked with a soft gasp.

"We'll be out hunting Horcruxes once Harry is here and of age. What if one of us is captured and they magic the information out of us? We know too much!" His arms dropped to his sides making her feel strangely lonely and scared.

"I -I can learn it from a book perhaps?!" she replied, her brain berating herself for not having thought about it earlier.

"Not everything... I- I have asked Remus to help." he said almost sheepishly.

" You have?! Did he agree?"

"Of course he did." he smiled a little.

She mirrored his smile and as his eyes lingered over hers, the days of heartache and pain seemed to seep back in.

" _Why Ron?_ " she pleaded in the softest whisper as she bit her lip to cut of the whimper that threatened to escape.

He continued to watch her, and Hermione realised she was thankful for the silence. Maybe, it was better not knowing why he did not reciprocate her love. Maybe, it was better to continue loving him without hoping or waiting for anything that was more than friendship from his side.

But the silence did not last and he let out a soft sigh and did not meet her eyes as he began speaking.

"It's not the time for us, Hermione... You know Harry needs us. First of all, we have to search these blasted Horcruxes and finish them off, and I have no clue how, without one of those Basilisk fangs. We really should have picked them up when we had the chance."

"We couldn't have guessed something like this would happen, Ron... We never imagined we wouldn't be able to go back to school." she replied even as her core hurt at his honesty. But she hung on to the feeble hope that hid behind his words.

 _"_ We will have to leave, won't we?" she asked.

"Yes. And, it can't be about us, Hermione, not yet. Not till Harry succeeds. We have to do anything and everything to help him finish this, you understand?"

"Yes..."

"And you have to keep yourself safe too. Promise me you will keep your identity hidden when we leave to pick Harry, disguise yourself as a Weasley. We have such large numbers that it's difficult to keep track anyway." he breathed.

"So it _was_ your idea." she murmured.

"Anything to keep you safe, Granger, _anything."_ He replied, his blue orbs boring into hers fiercely.

...

Walking back towards the house he felt calmer than he had in days. He had set the ball rolling. Gaining her trust without promising anything was the key here. He wasn't really happy about deceiving his best friends but did he have a choice? Did any of them have a choice? It was a backup plan and one that would require to be in place as well as kept hidden. There wasn't suppose to be secrets between the three of them if they intended to succeed in this mission, but this lie, and the one he would tell in the days to come was crucial to the success of this very same task they had been assigned.

He looked up at the sky wishing he could ask Dumbledore what he thought of this strategy, one chess master to another.


	38. Truth and Lies

**A/n:** A big, heartfelt thanks to all of you who left behind a review. I wish I could reply to each one of you individually, but updating the story from my phone is eating away most of my energy. But you must know, I cherish each review and new reader who adds this to their favourites or begins to follow it.

I am posting from my phone again, so apologies in advance for errors and typos.

On another note, **The voting is now open for Romioneawards 2015 on tumblr. There are awesome stories and fan arts in the nominations. This story is nominated under the Most Intriguing Plot category.A huge thanks to nirdoodle for sending in the nomination. :)**

 **All Character rights belong to JKR.**

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 **Chapter 37: Truth and Lies**

The night before the 27th of July found Ron pacing in the barely there space inside his bedroom. The second bed placed for Harry had cramped up the room further, and it took him merely three strides to reach from one end of the wall to the opposite window.

By this time tomorrow, either Harry would be with them and celebrating the success of their mission, or, well, Ron wasn't sure he wanted to think of the other possibility. He released a deep sigh. He was worried despite all the precautions he had taken. Yes, both Hermione and he were now apt at Occlumency, thanks to Remus, and they had been secretly practicing all the spells they had learnt. But still this was their first mission after Dumbledore's death. That itself was a disturbing thought.

This fight was nothing new, not to him. He had been a part of it since he had befriended Harry, and although he had not faced the brunt of evil as much as Harry or Hermione had, he knew more about the terror reign than either of his best friends. Harry had not known anything till he had entered the Wizarding world at eleven. Hermione's family and their links had shielded her from it all till last summer. But his story was different. Neither of his friends had inherited the fears, or really known the terror that Ron had heard from his parents and elder siblings. His family was always the one that was in the centre of the war, and always marked for being blood traitors. They had lost family members in the past, and there was a huge possibility of that happening this time too. The very thought scared him. It made him worry about Ginny and his parents, and all his brothers. His ties with Harry had effectively brought them further more in the line of fire. It was not like he doubted his desire to assist Harry, even the thought would be a disgrace to the blood that ran in his veins and the Gryffindor heart he owned, but he worried about their safety once he left, he worried about not being around to look out for them.

A soft knock on his door made him pause. He had no clue who it could be. His parents had long gone off to sleep, and the twins had their own flat now. Ginny would barge in and not bother to knock; it only left _her._ But she had never come up here in all these weeks, why would she do that now, and that too, at this hour?

He opened the door slightly and sure enough, there she stood, dressed in her familiar peach gown, hair left loose to cascade down her back, a gentle blush gracing her fair cheeks, wringing her hands and with downcast eyes as if she was still debating her judgment to be here.

The anxiety didn't leave him at her sight but there was a fair bit of calm he felt which was soon taken over by an anxiousness of a different nature. Realizing that he was still blocking her path, he cleared his throat consciously and moved aside. Her shoulder brushed against his chest as she entered, causing him to draw in a rugged breath, and he gently closed the door behind her, making sure to leave a slight gap between the wood and the door frame.

She turned towards him and he waited for her to speak. This was the closest she had come to him in weeks, and despite all his strategies and plans that required him to keep away, he craved to pull her in her arms, craved to claim those lips, ached to have her the way he had on his dorm bed months back. _And not stop this time._ Added his heart and he closed his eyes and took in deep breaths to erase her naked image from his mind.

"Why are you here, Hermione?" He asked when he could manage, his voice coming out deeper than he intended.

She looked up at him with a hundred different emotions floating in her deep brown orbs. The moonlight streaming in through the window that fell on her reminded him of the night at Hogwarts when he had realised that he had fallen madly in love with her.

It seemed she was struggling for words, and he waited as his breath became steadily more rugged at her proximity.

Hermione looked at the tall young man standing ahead of her. He was in his ankle displaying maroon pajama lowers and a black vest that emphasized his broadening shoulders further. He was clearly waiting to hear the reasons for her presence, but how could she tell him that there was no reason apart from a deep craving to see him? All these days she had concentrated on learning Occlumency and practicing defensive and offensive spells with him, she had focused all her attention on the task at hand, keeping her feelings at bay, telling herself that she had to finish this assignment that began but did not end with getting Harry to the Burrow safely. She could understand where Ron stood, his dilemma to give in to any kind of a commitment till Harry succeeded, and she couldn't really hold a grudge against him for it. She didn't really expect anything else from him.

Wondering what to say as an excuse for her presence, she moved towards the open window that overlooked the orchard. Soft, cool breeze blew in messing her curls, and she heard the gentle click of the door closing before his presence felt closer, sending a warm tingle to run down her spine.

His hands moved as if on their own will to turn her around gently and she looked up at him with those shy eyes before lowering them, cheeks colouring deeply. He tenderly tucked an unruly curl behind her ear and lifted her chin to meet her eyes again. There were no words necessary, and his heart cursed him for the pledge he had taken. His palms were now on her face, thumbs gently grazing her cheeks as he dropped his guards while he gazed back into her eyes. She was his, he knew it. He could neither deny nor doubt it anymore, but he could still not have her, because they had different destinies to fulfill first. He wasn't sure where they would stand by the end of it, and the journey would be excruciatingly long, but he hoped Harry would emerge a winner at the end of it, and he hoped he himself would stand true to the trust the Headmaster had placed on him, hoped he would be able to fulfill the task that was allotted to him even if it wasn't specifically worded out.

She knew he would never say it aloud, but she was wiser now. She could see it in his eyes, and without allowing herself to think, she crashed onto his chest and felt those strong arms wrap her in. There was nothing in the world that made her feel as safe as his embrace, nothing in the world she craved more than Ron, and she buried herself onto him further. She feared for his life and Harry's, but she feared losing him the most. She pressed firmly onto his chest, listening and memorising his rhythmic heartbeat, soaking in his fragrance that would be her shield and Patronus in this new journey.

He released her only when she initiated it, and even then, they watched each other in silence for a few minutes. Finally, she stood on her toes to place a kiss on his cheeks.

"Stay safe, Ron... For me." she murmured and a small smile glinted in his eyes.

"You too, Hermione." he whispered back and bend down, causing her eyes to flutter close in anticipation. His lips touched her cheek in the softest of touches before he murmured a goodnight in her ears.

...

She could pass as Ginny's elder sister or perhaps, at a glance as Ginny herself. Her hair was straight and reached her waist in hues of rich auburn. Her skin was a tint lighter than her natural complexion. She stoped in front of everyone but her eyes sought him out as if looking for his confirmation.

"Woah! You could pass as a Weasley!" exclaimed Ginny as Ron continued to look on with mixed feelings.

"That is the idea." replied Tonks. "And this is only till we reach Harry's place anyway.

"Let's hope they take the false bait about the date, but we still need to be on our guard." barked Moody. "But whatever be the case, they will still wait till Harry is outside the protection of the house."

"How encouraging!" grinned George in an undertone and Moody continued after a stern glare at the twins.

"Stick to the timelines, and be alert at all times. Now off we go!" he ordered to the assembled group.

From the moment they moved out to the backyard and he mounted his broom with Tonks, Ron continued to look at her, sending silent prayers for her safety.

How was he to know that by the end of the night, another of their veteran warriors was going to fall, or that his brother was going to narrowly escape death?

...

Harry had not stopped blaming himself for Moody's death. No matter what everyone said or how much Molly kept them all busy with the wedding preparations, he could not shake off the guilt. How many more people would die trying to save him? He knew the Order and a huge chunk of the Wizarding population was looking up to him as their saviour. They were willing to sacrifice their lives in order to save him in the hope that he would be able bring an end to this terror reign. As much as he was determined to do just that, he was apprehensive. There were still so many questions unanswered, so many riddles left to solve. He constantly felt like he was missing something, like there were answers lingering around the corners but just beyond his grasp. He could not help admire the dedication of his two friends. Hermione had gone ahead and catalogued a list of places they had to check for the Horcruxes, the first being Number 12, Grimmauld Place. However, the Order was still working on its safety issues, but with the death of Moody that had now come to a standstill. Harry had seen the ghoul that was to be presented as Ron in his absence, and he could not help feeling rotten about the amount of trouble he was putting the Weasleys through, especially Molly. Would she ever be able to forgive him if something happened to her son? Heck, would _he_ ever be able to forgive himself if something happened to Ron or Hermione?

He had voiced it out to his best mate once and had received a sound admonition and firm answer in reply.

"We are not doing it just for you, Harry." The annoyed redhead had announced, "You maybe the Chosen One mate, but this is a whole lot bigger than that. It has always been bigger than that. And Dumbledore didn't just leave you with a mission, he left tasks for most of us." he had added, bringing Harry down to reality.

He looked at the two figures, one of whom was busy rummaging through his rucksack while the other, taller figure was lying on his back watching the first. The room was barely lit with the light of two wands, and Ron had promptly silenced the room upon Hermione's arrival. Harry had learned quickly that Molly was adamant about not leaving the three alone. She wasn't happy about their decision of not going back to school, but leaving for the secret assignment Dumbledore had set for them instead. Ron often grumbled that she was still treating them as kids. But even he knew it was better not to give the witch a chance to release her ire on them. Hence, these meetings were always arranged in the silence of the night.

Harry felt pleasantly drowsy after the rather large meal Molly had set up for them as a small celebration for Remus and Tonk's hushed wedding. He was only holding on because there was still so much he had to discuss.

Hermione finally finished whatever she was sorting and slumped down on Ron's bed, next to his long legs and Harry noticed the tall ginger quickly scoot away towards the back of the bed.

"I am almost set." she told him.

"Where do we go from here?" inquired Ron.

"I would have said Grimmauld Place, but do you reckon it will be safe?" he asked. Harry had thought over it and knew that the Black House would be the safest apart from it being the place where the locket could perhaps be. But the security of the house itself was a big question now. Surely, the age old protection on the house could not be completely destroyed by Snape?

"Moody was working on it but we don't know for sure if he succeeded." whispered Hermione softly, and he noticed her wiping the corner of her eyes.

"I am sure he did. Maybe Harry and I will go check it out after the Trace ends, before we three leave," suggested Ron, causing Hermione to turn around at him with a gasp.

"No, you won't! The three of us go together, or we don't go at all," she declared strongly.

"We won't leave you back, Hermione. You know we need you." Harry told her, eying his best mate, who, he was sure, was faking a yawn. Hermione looked at their friend once and got up a little consciously.

"I'll go now. 'night Harry, Ron..." she muttered and left with soft footsteps.

Harry waited for Ron to fall asleep, but when he remained staring at the ceiling long after Hermione had left, Harry decided to inquire about things that were running in his head since the day he had arrived.

"Hermione's deduction was right. It was Remus after all." he said casually and without a preamble.

"Wha-, Ah... Yeah..." Ron replied as if caught by surprise.

"She is glowing, but I kind of had a feeling that Lupin isn't so happy."

"Well, it's simple really, isn't it?" Ron answered as if talking aloud to himself, still looking at the ceiling where Chudley Cannon players zoomed in and out of a frayed poster.

"It is? Not to me, mate." he replied, genuinely interested to know the reason for their ex-professor's distress even in his happy hour.

"How can he be happy?" asked Ron in a strained voice. "I'm sure he thinks that Tonks is rushing into this commitment, and most of it has to do with this war and these uncertain times. He feels he is not worth her because of his affliction. Feels that she deserves so much better than him. And he is worried that once all of this is over, she will realize her mistake and either regret choosing me or leave me for someone better... I am not sure he'll be able to live with that, will he?" he finished in a quiet voice.

Harry eyed his best mate for a while not missing the slips he had made. "I thought we were talking about Remus and Tonks, Ron," he said with a sad smile.

"Of course we are, Harry," Ron replied, surprised.

"No mate, you were talking about Hermione and yourself." he replied noticing even in the faint light of the wand, that the other boy had grown red around his neck and face.

"Is that why you treat her like you do?" he pressed on. Harry knew Dumbledore wanted them together and as far as he could see, Hermione had pretty deep feelings for Ron. Why couldn't the prat understand and acknowledge it?

"I don't treat her any different from how I treat you guys." he huffed.

"Ron, most of the Order can see what you don't see, or perhaps don't want to see. Even Dumbledore wanted it." he commented hoping to knock some sense into the stubborn guy next to him.

"Dumbledore is dead, Harry! And things that would have worked in the safety net of his presence don't work anymore." Ron retorted angrily or perhaps out of frustration. He sat up straight on his bed and ran his long fingers through his hair.

"Look mate, we were supposed to go back to school. Hermione was suppose to stay back protected in her Chamber researching, while you and Dumbledore were suppose to look out for these blasted Horcruxes. And I was supposed to keep her linked to our side by being her object of fancy." He uttered the last part in disgust. "We were not suppose to go out on our own hunting and trying to finish parts of His soul all by ourselves. That slimy git wasn't suppose to backstab us. Her presence and alliance was suppose to be a secret. You do realise that they will target capturing her, don't you? And what can we do to save her, save all the secrets she knows? Nothing, not without risking your life. Her only shield can be her identity, of her being a Granger. And I am not ready to take that away from her, are you?"

Harry continued to watch his best mate in silence. Ron was right, these times were different and they had to adjust with these changes.

"Do you love her, Ron?" he asked after a long time.

"I am not going to make the same mistake as Remus, Harry." replied the ginger before extinguishing his wand and turning around to face the wall.

...


	39. Marked by the Lion

A/n: This is quite possibly going to be the last light chapter in this story; the plot will shift to darker and more intense themes.

A big thanks to my readers both new and those who have stuck on with me for months now. I deeply cherish the support I get from you guys.

Still posting from my phone, apologies in advance for typos and errors.

 **All Characters belong to JKR.**

* * *

 **Chapter 38: Marked by the Lion**

"Bloody Hell! What is _he_ doing here!" he muttered in an undertone to himself as the famous Bulgarian Seeker strutted towards them.

His eyes automatically glanced sideways towards her and did not fail to notice first the shock that played in her eyes, and then the blush that crept up her neck and reached her cheeks. Even her quick glance at his direction and uncomfortable stiffening did not go amiss.

"What are you doing here?" he asked rudely to the obvious surprise of his brothers and best mate who stood along with him outside the wedding marquee.

"I vos invited by the bride herself." replied the man in his strong accent, clearly affronted at the less than polite welcome.

Krum looked away from him and glanced at the others, his eyes lingering a bit too long over Hermione. There was a moment when Ron was sure each one of them was holding their breaths, but then, the moment passed and Krum was escorted away by George. He turned towards Hermione who let out a ragged breath and smiled meekly at them.

...

It was a happy occasion. Quite possibly the last one for a very long time to come. But no matter how hard he tried, Ron was unable to shake off the sense of unease that clung onto him. It was almost time for them to leave, time to disappear as they began their formidable assignment. _How long till the struggling and infiltrated Ministry held on against His growing power? How long till they became frantically searched outlaws? How long till He realised that someone was targeting the links to His immortality? How long till either of them was caught?_

He looked around at the cheerful faces of his family. What if, despite all their precautions, the Death Eaters found out about his role in the mission? What if they held someone from his family hostage and asked him to give up Harry, or Hermione for that matter? And even if the three of them managed to allude capture and stay alive till the end of it, how long till he would see his family again?

In front of him, Bill kissed his new wife and Ron send a small smile towards both his friends. Harry looked away to clap with the crowd but the blonde sitting next to him didn't. She didn't look anything like his Hermione today. Her straight hair hung down her back, and creamy white skin contrasted sharply with the deep azure blue full length gown she wore. Even those eyes weren't brown but blue-green today. The idea was to blend her in with the Delacours, but how on earth she was to blend in while looking so insanely attractive was beyond Ron, although on a personal note, he preferred her with those maddening curls, loved those natural brown pools.

He had noticed many a men glance at her, and he did hate what he saw in their eyes. Some deep-rooted and rarely acknowledged part in him wanted to drag her away from the crowd. He was against the experiment right from the beginning. Why couldn't she take the blasted Polyjuice potion like Harry had? She would have just resembled some non-descriptive girl from the village. It would have been so simple, but of course, why would she do that? She had to just go ahead and taking help from Tonks, alter herself to look like a distant cousin of the French bride. He understood that dressing up as a Weasley girl would not have worked considering Ginny was the only female in the family for generations. But couldn't they just drop Muriel from the guest list and disguise her up as a redhead Prewett? That would have at least partly concealed her in the sea of redheads. If he remembered correctly,there was a middle aged ginger lady in the muggle village.

But of course, she had to ditch his idea. Hadn't she argued that the invited guests would hardly recognise Hermione Granger, and in the unlikely event that someone did, no one would expect the dead Slytherin amidst the Weasleys anyway? Unbidden, another thought occurred to him, _what if she knew that Krum had been invited, and she had purposely refrained from disguising herself totally?_

The angry monster growled inside him as words from months ago came back to him.

 _Was he your first?_

 _He was her first._ That bloody, fucking Krum had been the first to touch her, the first to have snogged her for sure if not more.

What if there _had_ been more?

He remembered the night after Dumbledore's death. What if Krum had been the first to see that glorious skin under her robes? The first to make her moan like she had with his mouth on her nipples, the first to have gone further, the first to have his name rolling off her lips in pleasure, the first to have touched her, the one to have claimed her...

He practically saw red at the thought, and when Harry called him to move as the tables began shifting away to create a dance floor, he huffed in reply. Both his friends looked at him in surprise and his eyes softened as he met her confused eyes. _That was all past, it had to be. She wouldn't have allowed him to go further than a snog for sure. Merlin, she was barely fourteen at the time!_

"Come on Ron, lets take a table, unless of course, you prefer to dance?" snickered Harry and before he could reply, he was beckoned from the other end by an irate Muriel. Muttering furiously under his breath, he barked back a reply that he was on the way before turning back ruefully at his best mate.

"You guys grab a table, I'll see what's stopping her from going to her grave."

It took him a good ten minutes before he managed to extricate himself from the death grip of his Mum's dear aunt, and by the time he reached the table where the slightly plum, red-haired version of Harry sat, there was a big group of people on the dance floor.

"Where is she?" he asked softly as he pulled a chair for himself and grabbed a mug of butter beer from the floating trays.

Harry said nothing but gestured slightly towards his left on the dance floor. Confused, he followed his friend's line of sight, and what he saw made him thump down his mug on the table, drops of the drink splattering on the pristine tablecloth.

"He joined us as soon as we got here. I reckon she went with him only to enforce her false identity."

Ron didn't really care for Harry's thoughts or Hermione's reasons for that matter. All he knew was that she was now in that wanker's arms, swaying to the soft music. Blood rushed to his temples as he continued to watch the couple. He briefly heard Harry mention something about seeing someone and barely heard as the other boy left the table. Subconsciously he began breathing slowly throw his nose, jaws clenched painfully as his eyes narrowed in concentration and fury.. Didn't she realise how low that bastard's hand was on her back? How close it was to her bum? Didn't she feel him spread his palm and pull her closer as the music changed to a softer, more romantic number?

He grasped a goblet of fire whiskey and swallowed the whole thing in one go. The fiery liquid ran down his throat adding fuel to the flames in his chest.

He could not see her face but judging by the sickly smile on the Bulgarian, she must be enjoying the reunion. Had she disclosed her identity to him? Was she testing waters to see if her former lover would take her back? Was he trying to charm his way into her knickers?

He dropped the third empty glass and got up just as the pair moved out of the tent. In a while the sun would begin to disappear behind the trees, and Ron wondered if they were looking for a place to snog. Pushing his way through the crowd, he went after them. They were standing apart, talking in hushed tones perhaps. Without bothering to hide the rage coursing through his veins, he stormed past without glancing at either of them.

...

She was uncomfortable. There was no other word for it. As the music changed the second time, lowering into a soft number, she felt him pulling her closer and look deeply into her flustered eyes.

This was stupid. She should have truly listened to Ron and taken Polyjuice, but of course she hadn't, so confident that no one could possibly recognize her in this get-up. But she hadn't known Krum was coming, had she?

If truth be told, she was surprised to find no fluttering in her heart at the sight if her ex-boyfriend, only concern of getting caught. And so, she had taken up his request for a dance, to prove him of her mis-identity.

"Sophie Delacour?" he asked, looking intently at her blue-green eyes.

"Yez." she replied, mimicking Fleur's accent.

"You greatly resemble someone I knew." he prodded on, doubt still lingering in his eyes and words.

"Iz zat your way of charming ze ladies, Mr Seeker?" she asked with a sideways grin although her heart was literally thumping madly in her chest.

"No." he replied softly as a moment of grief came over his features.

"She vos the one I truly loved, the one I intended to marry." he declared, and she felt a pang of remorse for him. Krum had been good to her, but even during their short courtship, he was the more involved one. Looking back, it seemed she was more fascinated then with idea of romance than the person himself.

"Vot happened?" she asked softly, just to keep the show going, yearning to get away.

"Her parents vere against our union," he scoffed.

"I'm sorry," she replied genuinely for his sake. "So, you are not seeing her anymore?"

" She passed away last year, her entire family died." he replied, watching her closely.

Hermione feigned a shock.

"You remind me greatly of her." he pressed on with a smile. She could feel his palms spread low over the small of her back, and the tiny tug that pulled her uncomfortably close to him.

"Had her family not been who they vere, and had she been alive, I vould have guessed you to be her. But she vouldn't be here with the Weasleys." He said in contemplation, almost to himself.

"Vot's wrong with ze Weasleys?" she huffed back, annoyed. "Zey are lovly people!"

"Yes, of course." he smiled, not taking his eyes off her, his gaze lingering way too long on her lips.

They danced in silence for a while as Hermione's brain went through possible ways of getting away from him before things went further.

"You are very beautiful, Sophie." he murmured in a slow whisper against her ears and she send him a forced smile.

"Vould you mind going away from the crowd to get some fresh air?" he asked seductively, and grimacing internally, she agreed only to get away from the view of others so she could lose him without creating a scene.

His advances were making her nervous and ill at ease. They moved out of the tent with him guiding her with his hand still on her waist. Even before she could say anything, an extremely outraged Ron stormed past them without a single glance, striding off towards Arthur's tool shed.

...

He had thrown off the robe and it now hung over an old, broken chair. He loosened the bow-tie to join the previously discarded item and rolled up the sleeves of his button-down shirt.

The music was floating in through the small gap of the door and it did nothing but increase the fury that pulsed in his veins.

Ron could not really decipher the reason for this rage but it ran through him like poison. Seeing her with Krum apparently had been the last straw; the frustration, the anxiety about their impending departure, the worry about the uncertain future and everything else that made up his present life had already brought him to his threshold of tolerance. Alright, there was a fair bit of unfulfilled sexual attraction to add to his troubles too.

He paced up and down the cluttered room, breathing roughly, trying to lose steam. But it wasn't working very well.

The door creaked open slightly and he turned sharply.

"Ron?"

He looked hard at that face he could hardly recognise, and turned away pointedly. Pressing his palms almost painfully on his father's work table he responded only after he had taken a few good, deep breaths.

"What do you want?" he spat without turning around. The music was now barely audible, as if, the door had been properly shut behind him.

"What are you doing here all by yourself?" Her voice sounded hurt but steady.

"That is none of your concern. You need not have left that party, which you were obviously enjoying, just to look for me." he retorted back. The now feeble, logical part of his brain kept reminding that she had left Krum and come looking for him after all.

There was a pause, and then determined footsteps made by the clicking of the high heels she wore underneath that floor-length gown came closer.

"What are you insinuating, Ronald?" she fumed, coming to stand in front of him, her arms crossed at her chest and eyes narrowed in annoyance.

He looked hard at her breast that were made more pronounced by her stance before locking his eyes with her, unashamed. She noticed his gaze and those fair cheeks turned a pleasant pink.

"Stop pretending, Hermione. Wasn't darling Vicky the reason why you did not take the Polyjuice? Just to see if he recognized you? Was the whole thing for him? The blonde hair, the dress?"

The tiny part of his brain declared that he was a prat and an arse; an insecure, fucked up moron in fact. He ignored it. Hermione was glaring so hard at him that it was a surprise that she wasn't breathing fire.

She watched him for a few minutes and then shoving him away, turned to leave. Ron reacted on instinct.

The grip on her wrist seemed to have come as a surprise and even as he pulled her to his chest, she tried in vain to free herself. He held her tighter, another arm now wrapped around her waist. He noticed that the heels had added a good few inches to her height and he now needed to bend less to look at her.

"Did you do it on purpose?" he asked in a hard, deliberate growl.

"Do what?" she spat back. "How was I to know he was coming? And if you must know, Ron, I had no interest in going with him. I had to, so that he wouldn't get suspicious!"

"YOU COULD HAVE JUST USED THE FUCKING POLYJUICE POTION!"

"I'M SAVING WHATEVER WE HAVE FOR LATER, YOU DIMWIT! DO YOU EVEN HAVE THE FAINTEST CLUE HOW MUCH HARRY HAD TO USE UP FOR TODAY?"

He could see her logic but accepting defeat wasn't appearing to be a fancy idea at the moment.

"What if he recognized you?" he asked still in a challenging tone.

"He didn't, did he?" she retorted irritably.

"You were close dancing with him." It was not a question and the low tone seemed to make her a little nervous.

"So what if I was?" she replied defiantly, and he saw red.

His mouth came down on her hard and insistent and she gave back just as equally after only a brief moment of hesitation or surprise perhaps. He had been holding on for so long that the ache was almost unbearable and the way she sucked and nipped at his lips proved that she wanted it just as much if not more. Her nails dug painfully on his back, and he left her wrist to bury his fingers in her hair. The texture was different, he preferred the curls.

He broke the kiss and she groaned softly.

"Drop the charms." he growled.

She nodded and extricating herself from his arms, lifted her gown. The dark blue gave way to cream as it was lifted till her thighs and he could see a band that held her wand and the tiny beaded bag.

He barely held himself from pouncing on her and watched as she moved her wand in intricate movements. Blonde gave way to brown and the straight locks curled back into their crazy self. With the last movement, her eyes came back to their normal colour and her nose changed slightly.

Dropping her wand on the table she looked at him and he noticed the blush creeping up her cheeks at the bland display of lust and want in his eyes.

The next few minutes were a blur of kisses and touches that pulled her to crash hard onto his chest. His fingers entwined in her hair and his tongue prodded and sucked, hard and insistent.

He was going out of control. Her petite body was pressed onto him and causing bolts of magic to run down his system.

With the last and feeble amount of logic he held, he pushed her away unwillingly.

"Go." he breathed out in pants and looked at her hurt eyes.

"Go before I do something you'll regret, Hermione." he pleaded.

"No." She said softly but firmly.

"Please..." he begged, his arms aching to touch.

"No!" she replied more forcefully and advanced towards him instead.

"Hermione, I won't be able to stop things from happening if you stay here. Go."

"What things, Ron?" she asked in almost a murmur as if she was curious as well as scared to know what he wished to do to her. He groaned aloud.

"Seeing you, touching you, tasting you." he replied, his voice low. His cock ached at his own words.

She blushed deeper but did not budge.

"O-Okay..." she replied looking down, suddenly too shy to look him in the eye.

" _Okay?"_ he repeated, taken aback.

She simply looked up at his expression and smiled nervously, blushing crimson at the admission.

"Oh Merlin! Fuck, Hermione! Come here..." he groaned, and pulled her back into his arms. He wanted to ask again, wanted to tell her that it was an insane idea and that she ought to run miles away from him. He did nothing of the sort. He couldn't.

Placing both hands at her nape, he kissed her harder than he ever had, hoping it would tell her what she had just agreed for.

"Stop me the moment you think I'm going beyond what you are comfortable with, okay? Stop me if I go too rough..." He murmured huskily, pulling away a little to look into her eyes, his own blue ones dark with the same raw passion he felt for her that one time in the library, back in their fifth year, but way stronger and deeper now than ever before. Tugging back a stray curl behind her ear, he continued looking at her, waiting for her response. She nodded a little in reply, biting her lips and he almost growled at her gesture, his gaze dropped and paused on her lips.

"Let me do that," he said hoarsely, and placing his hand on her face, used his thumb to release her lip and quickly place his own, demanding ones on hers. She whimpered softly as he gently bit down and then guided his tongue fluidly inside her parted lips. It started as a slow passionate dance of bites and kisses but soon turned hot and wild, months of supressed desires taking control at last. As their tongues began a battle for dominance, his hands slowly peeled the gown off her shoulders. She gripped his shoulders harder just to stay standing as the cloth slipped off to reveal the strapless bra she wore underneath.

Hermione let out small moans at the long awaited closeness and held onto Ron, placing soft but hungry kisses on his jawline. Her Ron was back, and this time, the aggression was out of desire and love rather than hate... She bit her lip as his hands moved lower, cupping her breasts and rubbing over them gently with his thumbs.

He lowered the bra- cups to reveal her to him again, and her hands instinctively locked into his hair, body arched, eager for his touch, for his mouth.

Breathing deeply through her slightly parted lips, she forced open her heavily lusted eyes to find him looking at her. A small, almost naughty grin lingered on his lips as he placed his fingers on her already erect nipples. She gasped out aloud, feeling a flush wetting her knickers. She closed her eyes, arching herself more into those skilful fingers, craving for those lips on her skin.

He did not disappoint. His mouth came over her left nipple almost in slow torture. But as that warm tongue started to work over the sensitive bud, kissing, sucking and licking alternatively, she let a cry which sounded too much like his name.

His member ached in the confines of his trousers and the button down shirt needed to be lost soon. But getting rid of his clothing would require him to stop touching Hermione, and Ron wasn't sure he could do that.

She was whimpering softly under the ministration of his mouth and fingers, sweat gleamed on that pearly skin that was partly exposed. But he wasn't satisfied, he wanted to see her, to mark her as his own. And although a small part of his brain kept asking him to get away, leave for the sake of their impending mission if nothing else, a stronger and more in control heart egged him on. His hand went to her gown and before he knew, the long garment was bunched at her waist, clutched tight in his fist.

It was the sight of her simple black knickers that brought him out of the daze that had blinded him so far. This was something else, the invisible line beyond which everything would change. Not that he was uncertain about his feelings or ignorant about their mutual attraction, but that tiny piece of cloth was symbolic of a limit. Ridding her of it, or even the simple act of touching her over it would make them more than just friends, it would put a label on their relationship, for him at least if not for her. Once he saw her, touched her, he would not allow anyone else to do it. She would be marked as his, forever, at least in his heart. He stood still watching her breathing heavy, and when minutes passed without him reacting, she opened her eyes. Ron was not sure what she saw in his eyes, but whatever it was, it made her features soften. Bringing her palm to rest gently on his cheek, she sighed softly before resting her head on his chest, her gown still clutched in his fists.

"I trust you Ron, with everything I have... With my life." she murmured softly.

He pulled her as close to his heart as he could, burying his face in the curls at her nape.

She had done it again, bared her vulnerable soul to him, and this time, Ron knew, he would rather die than hurt her. Ignoring the ache in his manhood and keeping aside his own need to be touched, he decided to tell her what he could not frame in words by his actions. It was a good thing he had five elder brothers, three of whom felt it to be their moral duty to teach him how to pleasure a woman.

..

"Do u want me to stop?" Ron asked in a murmur against her nipples, biting them in between his words. Hermione wondered how he even expected her to reply. She shook her head sideways.

"Tell me 'Mione, should I stop?" he asked again and proceeded to suck her swollen bud. The other breast was in his palm, his calloused fingers rolling the pert nipple within them. She whimpered, unable to frame a coherent sentence.

"Answer me." he asked again in a husky whisper that was almost a growl. His body heat was radiating off him into her, and his palm that was on her inner thigh was practically scorching her skin.

Ron had long discarded his shirt and the way he had kneeled down before making her hold up her dress had almost drawn all coherent thoughts away from her ever active brain.

And when he kissed and licked her navel as his hands pulled away the tiny piece of cloth to bare her open to him, she had moaned his name aloud. He had kissed her legs but without touching her aching sex, murmuring soft, intelligible words that were peppered with his course language, which she realised, she did not mind so much. On the contrary, it aroused her even more simply because it was such a 'Ron' thing.

"No, Ron...plz don't..." she whimpered in response. She was getting close. His voice caused a gush of air to brush her nape, one of his large hand was brushing the underside of her breast while two fingers of the other hand reached between her thighs and slowly spread her folds apart...

 _Sweet Merlin..._

He laughed softly, seductively at her words, and she gripped her gown harder. He lowered himself down on his knees and pried her thighs apart further. A sudden, loud gasp escaped her lips, Ron's skilled and warm tongue had just found her most sensitive parts...

He lapped at her folds in gentle, almost painfully slow strokes causing her to whimper and spread her legs for him, all the while pressing herself more onto him.

Hermione was glad about the two strong hands that had moved to her waist, holding her firmly in place against the wall. There was little chance of her wobbly legs being able to support her weight as Ron continued to have his way with her. He licked the entrance of her vagina, his tongue barely entering her, and this time, she literally cried out in frustration and placing her hand on his messed up hair, pulled his face onto herself. She could almost feel Ron snickering down there but he removed one hand from her waist, and even as she glanced down with heavy lidded eyes, he licked his finger and without breaking his gaze, pushed it straight inside her already soaking folds. She gasped but could not take her eyes off him, the love and devotion that lingered in those eyes was filling more than just her physical core. The intrusion was sudden yet so pleasurable that it send bolts of energy through her body in a way she had never known before. And when that very same finger curled inside her throbbing muscles, she threw her head back and shut her eyes, shuddering violently while whimpering softly, her walls clamping onto his finger.

But it seemed that Ron was not done with her. Not yet.

He pulled the finger out, and even in her orgasm induced high, she whimpered at the loss of contact, but not for long. This time, two fingers pried her open carefully before filling her up a little more, and soon, they began moving in and out of her in steady, careful strokes, while Ron's thumb rubbing over her extremely aroused clitoris continued pushing her further into a mind-blowing abyss. She cried out his name, sobbing slightly and twisting against the wall because the pleasure was almost too much to bear.

His grip on her waist was hard, and the tempo of his thrusts increased along with his grunts. She wanted to touch him but her body was no longer in her control. When he left her waist to fumble with his belt buckle, she seized up a little against her will.

He locked eyes with her and she glanced down at his member, shuddering at his size. _Was she ready for this? The main act?_ She was sure about wanting to have it with Ron but it was the timing that made her apprehensive somehow.

"Relax" he murmured and she closed her eyes, waiting, slightly scared for the impending pain.

It never came. What did come however, were soft lips that pried her open and the tongue that mimicked the motion earlier displayed by his fingers. With fingers of one hand playing their magic on her sensitized clitoris and another on his member, Ron drove them both to the edge and beyond.

She came again crying out his name, and this time, Ron joined her with his deep grunts, and both of them collapsed together on the floor wrapped in each others' arms.

...

The light of Kingsley's Patronus zipped past them just as they were making their way towards the wedding tent. Kingsley's voice carried loud and clear and then mayhem ensured. The protective shield disappeared and amidst the Disapparating guests and Apparating dark soldiers, Ron held her hand firmly in his, while his eyes searched frantically for his best mate. They dodged curses and spell, ducking at times and firing back at others as they pushed their way through the crowd.

Hermione saw him first. "There!" she yelled, pulling them both towards Ron's left as he continued to send curses left and right at the dark cloaked attackers. Someone pushed Harry towards them and the instant Harry's arm linked with Hermione's, he felt a sharp pull in his navel followed by the familiar squeezing sensation of apparition.

...

They materialized just beyond boundary of an enormous forest.

For a moment the three of them stood still, soaking in the new surrounding and dealing with the shock of their close escape.

"Where are we, Hermione?" asked Harry finally, but Ron was getting a sense of foreboding. She couldn't have possibly brought them where he thought she had, but a look at her slightly shivering form confirmed his doubt.

"We are on the grounds of Granger Mansion, mate." he answered on her behalf.

* * *

 _ **A/n:**_ _This chapter took literally days to come out the way I wanted it to. Originally, it was suppose to be longer but I feel it got lengthy enough._

 _Too much of smut? Looking forward to your responses._

 _Thanks a ton for your fantastic support so far. Please don't forget to check the nomination list on **tumblr Romione Awards 2015.** This story has been nominated for __**Most Intriguing Plot**_ _by the fantastic_ _ **nirdoodle.**_ _Thanks again, girl!_


	40. A Sanctuary Found

**A/N** :I am floored by the number of update requests and extremely apologetic for the late update. If only updating a chapter was as easy as placing a pen on paper, this chapter would have come up a lot earlier. Sometimes real life catches on and makes it downright impossible to find some quality writing time. That I am still forced to post through my phone doesn't help one bit.

I hope this chapter makes up for the wait. Next chapter will only come up next week.

A huge thanks to all my readers for sticking with this story. I am still not able to reply to your reviews as the FFN editor is not very user friendly on mobile.

 **All Characters belong to JKR.**

* * *

 **Chapter 39: A Sanctuary Found**

Ron looked behind him at the darkness that stood rock solid and eerily silent. He remembered this place all too well although, technically speaking, he had never set foot here before.

"We better move." Harry's words tore through the silence and his thoughts, causing him to turn back towards his companions.

"Yeah," he contemplated aloud, looking at the hunched form of the girl who had brought them there. She was sitting on a boulder, shivering slightly.

"I am sorry Harry, Ron... I just... This was the first place that cropped up in my head, they will never look for us in here..." she reasoned consciously, voice shaking ever so slightly in anguish.

He took a deep breath; the chill in the air irritating his nostrils.

"Harry, don't you reckon she is right?" he asked, pulling out and gripping his wand tightly.

"Perhaps, but how safe is this place, Ron? You've been here mate. It almost mauled you guys; that too, when it was barely an impression of the real thing."

The reasoning was irrefutable. He remembered it too well. They had dealt only with the foliage; who knew what creatures lay hidden within the darkness? He walked a few steps ahead to where she stood and kneeled down in front of her.

"Hermione?" Her name came out more tender than he wished, and she met his eyes slowly while anguish behind those beautiful eyes gave way to determination.

"We will be safe here." she announced, rising herself up to stand.

"From Voldemort perhaps, Hermione, but what about the enchantments on this place?" Harry asked; there was no mistaking the irritation in his voice. Ron stood unable to decide who to side with. He knew Harry was right but he also knew that if they could manage a safe zone like they had earlier, it would keep most of the intruders away or, at the very least, give them a fair chance of escape in case they were found out. Her reply, if any, was cut short by two subsequent cracks of apparition that tore though the silent night.

Wands were drawn out and in the blink of an eye, he was pushed back by a strong shield charm. The protective barrier collided sharply with a sinister spell that bounced back towards the casters.

There was a loud yelp and one of the two hooded figures collapsed causing his companion to turn around for a moment, a moment that was enough for Ron to shoot a stunning spell at him. As his spell hit its target, he realised that both his friends had had the same idea at exactly the same time. The triple spell caused the assailant to collapse on the ground with a sickening thud.

As the fine layer of dust settled around the two knocked out bodies, he approached the two while Harry, he noticed, was frantically glancing around for more intruders. Finally, satisfied that there were none, he came forward even as Ron removed the hoods from the faces of the two men.

"This one was there the night Dumbledore died." said Harry next to him.

"That's Dolohov," Ron told his best mate. "And this one is Thorfin Rowle, I think I remember him from the wanted posters."

"Their names are beside the point! How did they find us here?" The panic was unmistakable in Hermione's words.

"Should we leave?" He asked aloud. Maybe Harry was right.

"Not before we erase their memories. Whatever brought them here, they mustn't remember seeing us." said the bespectacled boy and the two of them instinctively turned towards Hermione who fumbled slightly under their gaze.

"I've never done this before. I only know the theory." she said consciously.

"Nevermind, as long as they forget seeing us and go and search some other random place, we don't care if they stay a little messed up in the head." he told her with a small laugh.

...

Hunched under the invisibility cloak and quite a distance away from the two stirring figures, the trio moved quickly, Hermione guiding them to a spot way ahead from where they had apparated. Waiting any moment for the familiar pull of side-along, Ron was surprised to find her pausing and then, casting a few of the strongest warding spells around them. He found the familiar question lingering in Harry's scrunched up eyes.

"Hermione-" began the other boy only to be stopped as she pulled away the cloak and stuffed it inside beaded bag.

"Do you both trust me?" she asked looking between the two. Behind the strength that emanated from her unfamiliar features, Ron could make out the tiny plea.

"Yes." he replied at the same time as Harry, and she gave them both a smile that held much deeper emotions.

"I'll explain everything, but first, you both need to lose your robes. Fold up your sleeves, in short, get rid of clothes that can get caught in the branches." she instructed while repeating the wand movements Ron had seen her perform only hours ago. Once back to her original self, she transfigured her heels to comfortable but knee length boots and the ankle length gown was shortened to reach her knees. He looked away at the sight of that glorious skin, gulping hard at the memories the sight triggered.

"Hermione what exactly are we doing?" Harry asked on both their behalf and she turned around to face them after finishing up doing whatever she had been busy with. Ron tried unsuccessfully to forget where the tiny bag was latched onto now.

"We are going inside the forest, Harry. Trust me, I know what I am doing. I'll explain it all in some time."

It was difficult to decide whether Harry was convinced but when no further arguments came, Ron realised that the Chosen One had decided to trust her for once. Not like they had many options.

With one glance at both of them, eyes lingering a little longer on him perhaps, she inhaled deeply before pulling out her wand and mimicked a slicing motion on her palm. The cut was deep and ignoring the twin gasps from the boys, she proceeded towards the edge of the forest. Ron noted with sickening curiosity as crimson liquid dropped from the cut and touched the ground. The hair on his hands and neck stood up as a faint but strong wave of magic seemed to reach out from the ground right in front of her and spread all around. Too mesmerized and confused to speak, he turned towards Harry who looked back at him with similar emotions.

"Wha-" he began but stopped shocked as she took a step ahead and stood over the familiar white flowers. His reaction was instinctive as he held on her wrist to pull her away, but the instant his hand touched her, strong roots slid down from the nearest tree, wrapping them around his torso in a death grip.

"RON!" yelled two familiar voices and he barely registered the severing charm that missed it's target and sliced his trousers instead, causing the skin on his calves to rip along with the fabric.

"NO, HARRY! STOP! PLEASE!" her voice was getting fainter or perhaps was his hearing ability as he struggled for air, his chest constricting painfully within the binds that encased him in a death grip, forcefully. expelling the air out of his lungs. Then there was the familiar touch of her palm on his injured skin and her voice sounded from somewhere close by.

"Leave him, he is a friend not a foe." The roots loosened causing a sudden blood rush that almost knocked him out if not for Harry who managed somehow to hold him upright. There were hushed and angry voices exchanged but he couldn't really make out much before a warm spell washed over him. He managed to open his eyes to a deathly pale Hermione and a terrified and furious Harry.

The two of them half dragged, half pulled him to the small space that she had recently cast enchantments over. His legs hurt and breath came out in gasps hurting his ribs even more. Harry helped him lie down, even the slightest movement causing his chest and arms hurt enough to make him pass out forcing him to hold on with every last bit of strength left in his body.

She came closer and Ron let out an involuntary yelp when her palm touched his chest. Despite his hazed vision caused by the pain, he could see a stream of tears trickling down her cheeks.

"I have to see what's broken, Ron" she asked in a halting, teary voice.

"Yeah..." he breathed out and closed his eyes to stop her from seeing how difficult it was to even reply in monosyllabic words.

Flames erupted behind his eyelids when she touched him; yes his ribs, quite a few of them in fact, were definitely broken.

The spell was warm and only mildly uncomfortable and the task of breathing became significantly less strenuous. He remained in his position for a few more minutes and when he attempted to get up, Harry helped him to it. Ron looked at his arms, dark whiplashes covered the pale skin over the faded marks left behind by the brains.

"The protection charm has been awakened, the forest was trying to protect me." she mumbled in way of an apology and an explanation, rubbing her cheeks of tears by the back of her hand.

"By killing Ron? Awesome." grumbled Harry.

"I'm sorry, I should have warned you both." she managed as more tears escaped.

"It's okay," Ron answered and before he could stop himself, wiped out the moisture off her cheeks, noting how his arms ached even at the simple gesture. "But this won't work, Hermione." he added softly.

"It will, once I transfer the protection to the two of you as well." she countered.

"Trust me, please?" she beseeched and he nodded despite his doubts. She pulled his palm in her own and moved the wand once more. A much smaller cut oozed out a tiny amount of his blood and she placed her bleeding palm over it.

"I,Hermione Jean Granger, bestow my blood protection on you, Ronald Bilius Weasley, and do so of my own, free will. Let the truth of my words seal this bond and keep you safe from all enchantments of this forest, the living and the dead,the flora and fauna and all creatures that reside here to protect the Grangers."

She released his hand and moved over to Harry, repeating the same process.

Finally, she let go and healed all their cuts with a simple spell before taking her place between them. Placing her much smaller palm in his and holding Harry on the other side, she pulled them inside the forest.

...

Harry watched the perfectly erected tent amidst a clearing in the trees. A warm fire crackled in front of the entrance. In addition to all the precautions and the recently awakened protection, Hermione had deemed it fit to cast more of their warding spells around them, placing their tent at the dead centre of the protective enchantments. Under normal circumstances he would have called her paranoid. The situation was not even remotely normal.

He took his place on a fallen log at the entrance of the tent and grasped his wand , this was what being hunted felt like. Despite the spells he could still feel his heart beating frantically in his chest. They had almost got caught, Ron had almost died. He forced the last thought away. There was a gentle murmur behind the flap and he hoped that tiny bag of hers had something to sooth the angry welts that covered Ron's arms; there were sure to be more on his chest. He wanted to know why she had brought them here; Hermione seemed to know for sure what she was doing. After the strange and albeit dark ritual, she had actually guided the two of them to this clearing unharmed. But how long would the protections hold and how would they even begin their search cloistered here? He hoped to get some answers from her once Ron's wounds were dressed. So he waited, mentally going over all that he had recently learned about Dumbledore from Ephesus Dodge and Muriel. He didn't know what to believe and he hated the seed of doubt placed in his heart.

How had the Death Eaters located them? Or was it a mere coincidence? Perhaps they were keeping a watch on the property now that Voldemort knew Hermione was alive? Or, he shuddered slightly at the though, maybe his Trace had been revoked... He wasn't sure if that could be done, he wasn't sure of a lot many things now. Why did Dumbledore never tell him that they both had homes at Godric's Hollow? That they had both lived and lost loved ones there? Why had he willed the Snitch to him or the Deluminator to Ron? Why had he left that old children's book for Hermione with McGonagall to be given to her later as a gift? What was the link between these objects? Why couldn't he be a little more explanatory during their sessions?

He felt the beginning of a headache and rubbed his scar absentmindedly and turned at the door flap again. At least Hermione had to have some answers for them.

...

He winced as her fingers touched the bruises on his wrist and she withdrew her hand as if shocked.

"Oh! S-sorry..." she mumbled and he managed to pull her close, making her sit next to him on the bench.

"Hey..." He called softly when she avoided meeting his eyes.

"I didn't mean to hurt you, Ron..." She whispered as he rubbed his thumb on her knuckles.

"You didn't hurt me, 'Mione... It's because of you that we have this safe hideout. Seriously, I don't know what we would have done without you." he spoke placing a hand on her cheek and rubbing his thumb tenderly on her cheeks, craving despite his aching muscles to pull her to himself.

She leaned closer to him and for a minute, he relished the closeness before the pain caused him to let out an involuntary gasp and clench his jaw. Her gasp was louder than his.

Hermione moved away and pulled out the beaded bag she had dropped on the table and after a few unsuccessful attempts, accioed a bottle of a gooey liquid.

"This will help but you'll still need ample rest to get the stiffness off your muscles." she said sounding guilty but determined.

It was when she placed her fingers to unbutton his shirt that Ron stiffened.

He placed his hand over hers to stop her and she tenderly swatted his hand away although a fresh blush materialised on her cheeks. Her closeness and fragrance were intoxicating, the memories felt distant and dreamlike.

Unbuttoning his shirt, she pulled his shirt away carefully. He felt her draw in a deep breath as she noticed the bruises. Hermione made him pull away his vest, and when she came in front of him again, her skin appeared as coloured as his hair although it seemed she was making it a point not to meet his eyes. He wanted to touch her, wanted to kiss her; he wanted a hell lot of things that he wasn't supposed to perhaps, but he stayed still as she applied the ointment over his bruises and cast one of her healing spells soothing his muscles a little.

"We need a lot of answers, Hermione," he said in an attempt to draw his thoughts away from the girl in front of him.

"I'll call Harry inside." she said moving away.

"No, we'll go outside." Somehow the idea of leaving the entrance unguarded was a disturbing proposition. She met his eyes finally.

"You need rest!" she scolded, dumping the ointment in the bag and then fumbled around before pulling out a kettle and some teabags.

He laughed fondly at her and pulled back his shirt over his bare torso leaving it unbuttoned.

"Let's go, Harry tends to blow his top when he doesn't get answers." He said kissing her on her cheek from behind before walking out of the tent.

...

"That was a dark ritual."

Hermione did not counter Harry's statement, it was an ancient piece of magic, one that bordered close to dark magic and sacrifices.

"Yes." she replied, glancing at both the boys. Ron poked the dying embers before getting up and adding another dead log to it. The effort surely strained his barely healed arms, and she heard his strained breath, wishing he would have listened to her and stayed put in the tent.

"How did you know what to do?"

She turned at Harry again.

"You remember the book Dumbledore left us? It had a chapter on blood protections." She adjusted her short dress, and rubbed her hands together absentmindedly.

"When we went to the Room of Requirements, I was horrified to see that the forest attacked me. It wasn't suppose to. It had been guarding the family for ages. First I thought that perhaps it was because it was an image, but later, I wondered if the protection had been breached upon. The more I thought, the more it made sense. It would require tremendous amounts of dark magic and only that could explain the attack on the Mansion..." she paused for a while biting back the pain. She was barely a mile away from what had been her home, from what was nothing more than a graveyard now.

A rugged breath escaped her lips before she could continue and she concentrated only on the flames as she resumed explaining.

"I don't know if Dumbledore wanted me to reclaim this place, I don't know if he too knew this would be our sanctuary but that book had a lot of details about this kind of magic. It said that these enchantments were bonded to the land by blood and even if they were tampered with the greatest of dark magic, traces of the original blood bond always remained. It could be revoked by re-tying the bonds again, by giving it the blood mark again. And that is what I did."

"I wonder how they tracked us here..." Hermione looked at Ron; she had been wondering the same thing.

"What if I still have the Trace on me?" Harry looked anguished and she couldn't blame him. It was a daunting thought.

"Can't be mate. The Trace breaks at seventeen. It's an irrevocable wizarding law." announced Ron and although Hermione was aware of it herself, Ron's forceful declaration was assuring.

"Maybe they were just patrolling and it was just rotten luck." he added further.

The three of them were silent for a long time after that, each sorting out their thoughts. She noticed Harry's stoic expression and felt terrible for him. He looked overburdened but strangely resilient. Ron was again busy poking the embers but he too looked somber. Between the three, only he had a family in the direct line of fire. The thought of the Weasleys sent a shiver down her spine and she closed her eyes shut, desperately hoping that the whole family was safe.

"We need to plan, but before that, we need to rest." she announced and pushed herself up on her feet.

"I'll take the first watch. Ron, you better hit the bed." Added Harry.

Ron groaned but complied. Getting up, he dragged his long legs inside. She waited till he disappeared before moving over to Harry.

When she placed a hand on his shoulder, Harry met her eyes.

"I'm sorry... For earlier." he said softly.

"Don't be... I didn't realise this would happen."

He nodded slightly.

"He's my brother, Hermione. The thought of losing him scares me." The confession was a faint whisper and she gripped him hard at the shoulder.

"I know..." she replied.

"Thank you," he added after a while and she looked questioningly at him.

"For taking care of us, for taking care of Ron."

...

She had dozed off on top of the book she was reading, and it was a growl that woke her up. In a minute her senses were alert and she scrambled out of the bench to reach the tent flap.

Ron was already outside, down on his knees in front of a crouched form of Harry.

"What happened?!"she cried fearfully, kneeling down next to him.

"He's having another vision, I guess." Replied Ron, a little pale himself.

"A v-vision?" She gulped hard as fear tore her insides. "But-but, wasn't he suppose to close the connection? Keep Him from getting into his head?!" She was practically screaming and not sure what to do, began rubbing Harry's back.

"Not like he can help it most of the time."

Hermione was positive she hardly breathed for the next few minutes as Harry trembled in the ground in front of them. She had never seen anything like it. It made her feel exposed, like despite their protective enchantments, the evil was inching close to them, watching them from the darkness, just behind the trees.

Finally, when Harry stopped shivering and pulled himself up, she conjured a goblet of water for him as Ron handed him back his glasses.

"What did you see?" He asked.

"Nothing much... He is angry that we escaped."

"You must close your mind!" she frowned. "This is unhealthy and risky!"

Harry seemed to stop his retort just in time.

"I'll go to bed then." He announced.

"I'll get you some calming drought." She said and without waiting for a response, marched straight in.

...

Harry was finally in his bunk and fast asleep when she moved out of the tent again. It was the middle of the night and a slight chill wafted in the air. He turned at the first sounds of her boots and took the steaming mug of tea with a smile and a thanks.

"Harry?" he inquired.

"Asleep..." She responded looking at those blue orbs , suddenly very aware of him, aware of the intimate moments they had shared.

"Sit...please?" He called and she felt even more nervous at his voice.

She sat down next to him nonetheless.

"Are you alright?"

Hermione grasped the warm mug tighter. The honest answer was that she wasn't; she was scared and tensed, she was eager to run away from these familiar grounds, she wanted to forget the enormity of the situation they were in. But how could she forget? Every crunch of stone under her feet, every hustle of the leaves reminded her of their predicament.

"Come here..." He called and she scooted closer to him. His fragrance was reassuring. He embodied the hope she was holding on to. There was a familiar tug of muscles as his hand rested on hers.

"You are shivering." he noted and placed his palm on her face. Hermione looked back into his eyes,wanting nothing more than to be captured in his arms, nothing more that feeling his lips on hers. If anyone had the capacity to make her forget the horrific present, it was Ron.

She knew he could sense the want in her heavy breathing, see the desire in her eyes. Before she could stop herself or reason out, she got up and sat down on his lap straddling him and pressing her face in the crook of his shoulder.

"You should have listened." His voice sounded scratchy and pained although the arms that had wrapped around her remained firmly on her back.

" You should have left when I asked you to, should have never let me get so close." He murmured, voice getting huskier with each word.

She remained as she was, buried in his arms, and did not tell him how much his words hurt.

"Its too late for that, Ron..." she replied instead, "It has been late for months now." she looked up at him.

Their eyes locked and behind the anguish that was etched on that handsome and slightly tired face, there was the faint image of the man she had met in that tool shed merely hours ago. The memory of his lips on her own, on her body and specially between her legs caused her to blush deeply, the gentle touch of his fingers sprayed on her back causing a pleasurable wave of goosebumps originate from their point of contact and spread to other parts of her body.

"Aren't you scared, Hermione?" his voice was almost a murmur but deep and barely concealing the lust. A hand travelled from her back to rest on her thigh,bunching the fabric within them. The shiver that ran down her spine had nothing to do with cold.

"Scared of what, Ron? _You_?" she asked averting her eyes, cursing the rush of blood colouring her cheeks.

"No, scared of _this_..." he answered tugging her closer to his body, hand moving under the dress and rubbing gently on the soft flesh of her thighs.

" _This_?" she pressed on further, causing his hand to brush close to her bum. A throaty grunt escaped him and she wrapped her arms around his neck, realising how shaky her voice sounded, how wanting.

"Scared of this desire, this craving..." he told her, gently pushing back a curl from her face with his free hand, rubbing his finger tenderly on her cheek.

"Should I be?" she knew her voice quivered.

"Yes. You should." he replied pressing his lips on the tender spot behind her ear and she shuddered at the contact, hand moving over to rest on his hard chest. The touch did nothing to cut the shiver, quite the contrary in fact.

She moved her face away giving him better access to her exposed neck and felt the slightly wet caress of his lips. Ron's hand under her dress moved closer to her core, fingers pushing away the fabric of her knickers and and touching the naked skin beneath it.

His fingers playing on her arse cheeks and grazing the entrance of her vagina was the last straw. She spread her legs at the touch, involuntarily angling her body towards his fingers, at the same time pulling his face to hers and kissing him on the lips.

It was a good-no a mind boggling feeling. She loved controlling the kiss while his hand pressed and rubbed her delicate parts under her wet knickers. She sucked and bit his lips while his other hand joined the first, fingers of one teasing her vagina by rubbing slow circles just at the entrance, the fingers of other fumbling around before finding, and then rubbing her clitoris between them.

Hermione gasped as Ron placed a couple of fingers at her entrance, but did not quite push them all the way in like she wanted. She displayed her desire by licking and forcing his lips apart, pushing her tongue in and sucking hard on his, coaxing him to take it further. She had no clue where all the sexual aggression was coming from but Ron seemed to have unleashed some hidden fire inside her.

She barely realised when she began moving, all she knew was that she needed more, and her motion gave it to her, made his fingers push inside further than he allowed. The feeling was a bliss, the friction of his callused fingers moving inside her tender muscles, the taste of his lips, the hardness of the muscles of his shoulders that she was holding on to, the heat that he was giving off and the smell of their arousals enveloping them. It was only when he broke the kiss while gripping her hard to stop, and she felt a hardness press between her legs, that she paused, surprised and more than a little embarrassed at her actions.

Ron had no option but to stop her. The sight and the feel of her reckless abandon was a visual that would be etched onto his memory forever. And it was slowly taking him towards a high he had never reached before. He could not stop himself from imagining ripping off her dress, he could barely stop the image of a naked Hermione pressed onto him, he could hardly hold himself from replacing his fingers with his aching cock that wanted nothing more than to be buried deep inside her. He wanted to control the thrusts, deepen them and continue till she came and he joined her.

He wanted her, all of her. He knew she wanted him too but... Ron might not be very experienced, but he could read Hermione. He had not missed that momentary hesitation in her eyes when he had bared himself to her in his father's tool shed. That one moment was enough to tell him that she might be a slave to her physical demands, but a part of her, no matter how small, was scared. And no matter how much he craved her touch, he would never make her do anything she was not comfortable with. And there was more, so much more.

"We can't... Not here." he breathed ruggedly indicating the tent flap. She nodded without meeting his eyes, whimpering slightly as he pulled his fingers out and adjusted her soaking knickers.

How could he tell her that she deserved much better than to be shagged on a cold forest floor or a broken down tool shed? How could he tell her that she deserved to be made love slowly on a warm, soft bed in a cosy room that had a crackling fire in the hearth? How could he tell her that she deserved a promise of love before he took her all for himself? How could he tell her that he was not in a state to fulfill any of the things he wanted for her, not in a place to make promises? Heck, he wasn't even guaranteed to survive the end of the war...

Unable to put his thoughts in words, he did what he could - kissed her. It was nothing like the earlier kisses. It was slow and tender, it was an apology and an explanation, a regret and a promise. Ron only hoped she understood.

It was the hardest thing to watch her leave but he sat still without giving in to the temptation of pulling her back. He wasn't a Gryffindor for nothing; after all, bravery wasn't always about fighting the external evils, it was also about managing the internal demons.

...

 _ **A/n:**_ _Thanks for reading. Next update, next week._

...


	41. Lurking in the Darkness

**A/N:** Nothing is more comfortable than typing away on one's own lappy, back home, with the actual song inspiration of the story playing away in the background. Yes, I'm home, finally!

It's been too long and I haven't been able to reply (which I will positively do once this chapter is up). Yes, I am a little upset about not winning the Romione Awards, but, in the first place, I never expected this story to get so much of love and a nomination. Therefore, as long as I have my readers and followers of this story, I am happy, very happy. Can't believe the sheer number of reviews this one has got!

Now on an important note: Remember I said the story will get dark? We are almost there. Just remember, no matter what happens in the story, I LOVE Ron, more than any other character. So, even if there are times when you will feel shocked and betrayed (trust me there will be situations), there will be a resolution. I feel like giving out more but I'll just get a grip and get to the story.

Thanks to each one of you who read, review, favourite and follow this story. You guys make it worth the time and more.

 **All Character rights belong to JKR.**

* * *

 **Chapter 40: Lurking in the Darkness**

She stopped talking to him. Completely.

The first day he was as uncomfortable as she, so he let it pass that she spoke mostly to Harry. The second and the third day he was confused and tried picking up a conversation. In Harry's presence, she replied without looking at him, at others she deftly left the place after mumbling a quick reply. By the fourth day, Ron was boiling mad. It perplexed and infuriated him, but as much as she could, Hermione went about her day like he was invisible- a rather difficult feat considering it was just the three of them cloistered together in that small tent working out their next course of action.

He could have taken her embarrassment, or even considered that he might have hurt her by his rejection, but this, according to him, was rather immature and even snobbish on her part. She was the one who had initiated the intimacy, right outside the tent, next to the blazing fire... He let the thought slide away, miffed at himself for wishing that he had not stopped her, wondering how far her passion would have taken them.

He looked up at the small clearing, eyes lingering away to the thick cluster of trees with barely there gaps between them, and marked another line with his wand on the boulder next to him. _Five days, five bloody days since they had fled from his brother's wedding. Five days since he had heard from his family._ He was not even sure if he wanted to know anymore. What if the Death Eaters had captured someone or... worse? How would they even get to know, considering they were so 'well protected' inside these unbreachable enchantments?

He stood up and began pacing around the dry ashes of the fire, every once in a while looking at the narrow gaps between the tree-trunks for two humans who were his only link to sanity now. Correction, only one was a link to his sanity, the other was trying her best to do exactly the opposite.

"How long does it take to pluck some fruits from a bloody tree?" he huffed. Alright, he was happy that they had found a means of sustaining themselves, although it was only because one of Hermione's sick ancestors had planted a few rows of fruit trees in this death maze. Even if the cracked up arse had only done it to lure unsuspecting muggles, and then, enjoy seeing them pierced, strangulated and eventually killed by the foliage, still, the presence of those trees were a blessing he was not going to refute. Yes, he understood that without these, they would have to survive on steadily decreasing number of stale biscuits and a few cups of tea every day, but then, her insistence of going to fetch food only with Harry, or at times sending the boys together was annoying the hell out of him. What had he done to earn this behaviour? Why could she not bloody well tell him and be done with it?

A gentle and soft sound of laughter trickled through the trees and he was on alert immediately. True, he knew that sound and the person it belonged to, but there was no scope for error anymore. And this was their daily routine, anyway.

"Stop." He called, but the pair that walked out into the clearing had stopped even before he had uttered the word, their feet inches behind the protective enchantments, hands overloaded with a selection of fruits that made his empty stomach growl.

He noticed her flushed face, the traces of her laughter still lingering in her eyes, and for reasons he could not exactly fathom, it annoyed him all the more. Apparently, anger and hunger were not a fancy combination, least of all for him.

"What do I have that you don't?" he asked Harry. For an imposter, this question would have no meaning.

"A Deluminator and an appetite to digest a horse," he replied. Ron relaxed and lowered his wand after flicking it once. A tiny spell came to an end that had the potential of causing deep gashes to erupt on any new arrival, friend or foe. It was a typical Slytherin spell, cast by a Slytherin herself.

Later, the fruits were washed and laid out on the table while the three of them gathered around. Unsurprisingly Hermione took her place next to Harry who sat facing Ron. He picked up an apple and bit into its crunchy flesh, relishing the taste and allowing the juices to dribble down from the corner of his mouth. Relishing the tang and sweetness of the fruit to fill his empty stomach, and not bothering that he was probably chewing too loudly, he closed his eyes as a satisfactory grin spread across his face. He wiped the trail of juices with the back of his hand and took another bite. They ate wordlessly for a while before he spoke up.

"What now, mate? Do you think it is safe enough to summon Kreacher?" he asked, picking up a plum at the same time.

 _The discussion had taken place a few days before._

The suggestion, or more specifically- the direction, had been Hermione's. She wanted to wait for a while before Harry called the house elf for the answers they hoped the aged elf had. Hermione had the firm notion that the other side could use the creature to lure Harry into a trap, just like he had done before. Perhaps Harry was of similar opinion, or quite possibly he was still killing himself with the guilt, the Chosen One had agreed. According to Ron, they could wait for an eternity and the old bastard could still pull the same trick. Kreacher might have been instructed already, he told the two. That, according to him, made Grimmauld Place all the more an unsafe place. Hermione was quick to point out that the elf could not possibly leave the place of his own will to receive such instructions, he was quicker to point out that the security might have been breached already by their dear old Professor. All the slimy git had to do was bring dear old Bella to her deceased Aunt's house. That had shut his friends up. Harry had looked at him with fire blazing behind those green orbs; Hermione had paled significantly, and for once, glanced at him for longer than a few seconds.

"We call him now, and get done with it!" Of course, that was what his stubborn best mate would say. He rolled his eyes while Hermione gave out a sharp cry.

"No!"

"No?" Harry looked mutinous. "You heard Ron! For all we know, he could be right!"

She glanced towards him briefly without making eye contact. "Yes... Yes, he could. But we are not prepared!"

"Prepared?" Ron had been unable to stop himself.

"Yes," she muttered before turning back to Harry and he groaned softly to himself. "We need to loosen some wards inside these enchantments so that he can apparate here without getting killed. But it has to have enough security spells to keep us safe in case he, erm... brings along uninvited guest or guests..."

Harry looked at Ron, a look of understanding and acceptance passing mutually between them.

"How long till you can do such a thing?" he asked.

"A couple, I need to check a few things."

"Very well, then."

Back in the present time, Harry had just about picked up another fruit. He looked up to meet Ron's eyes again, lowering the peach back on the table.

"We have spent enough time waiting," announced the spectacled man, turning decisively at her.

"I was going to tell you both," she stated but only after she had properly chewed and swallowed the food in her mouth. "I was only waiting for the three of us to be together." She added, snatching away her hand as both of them reached for the same piece. Ron, who had been mildly pleased with her acknowledgement of his presence a moment earlier felt like he had been doused with cold water.

 _So was she back to Granger then? The girl who abhorred his touch?_ Suddenly he wasn't very hungry anymore.

"So go along and say it. I need to go back and finish my watch," he snapped irritably.

She gulped. He could not hear it, but noticed the way her throat constricted and then relaxed. He did not need to see her face to read her expression, but he did anyway. There was a familiar hint of surprise and discomfort, and something else he could not comprehend.

"I have decided that we do it away from here. I'll have to clear a small space of the undergrowth and set the wards to allow Kreacher in, and only him. Even if the elfish magic overcomes the ward barriers and he side-alongs someone, all we have to do is to get out of that clearing. The forest will take care of the rest. But we have to keep the elf safe to get the information out of him, so one of you will have to physically carry him to another such clearing."

"What if he takes us out by side along?" Ron looked at Harry. It was a fair point.

"He can't. He belongs to you, Harry. He won't be able to leave unless you specifically order him to."

"What if this so called 'uninvited guest' breaks the enchantments of the forest? They have done it before, haven't they?" he directed his query to Harry rather than her. Two could play this game.

"It's time-consuming a process to break the enchantments as strong as a blood bond. And they can't stand inside the charms and do it anyway," she replied back slightly irritated. Something inside him cheered.

"So someone could be standing outside the forest and break the security barriers as we speak? How comforting!" he replied with a mock smile.

"It's not that simple." She snapped at his mockery. "They would need my blood for it!"

"Fine!" interrupted Harry. "We do it tomorrow." He announced firmly.

...

At least something had worked out in their favour, to quite an extent in fact. Ron wasn't sure whether he was supposed to be happy or annoyed that Kreacher had not tagged along any dark wizard with him. Rather, after a round of ear-splitting cries post their mention of Regulus, the elf had turned rather helpful. It also meant that they had uselessly wasted those six days they spent on the Granger grounds.

He turned around, settling comfortably on the bed. Returning to the Grimmauld place was a bonus. It was a home he was familiar with, and finally, after almost a week they had food that did not consist of fruits. The Order seemed to have placed the counter-charms well; the ex-Potions master had kept away. And after a few more spells set up by Hermione herself, it was proclaimed safe by Harry and Hermione. He had agreed with them because that was the right thing to do. However, somewhere at the very back of his mind, doubt seemed to linger on. Something was amiss. He could not exactly decide what and hence refrained from voicing it out. It could simply be paranoia, after all, they had been living inside a murderous forest, forced to keep watch day in and day out.

He pushed away the tiny seed of unease and concentrated on the present. It was good to know that their assumptions were right - the locket thief was indeed Regulus Black. He wondered what Sirius would have thought of it. He would have certainly been proud. It was the icing on the cake that they had found the locked hidden away inside Kreacher's cupboard. Such a strange thing that one of the foulest of items had been right there, hidden beneath their noses all this time, in the very place he had spent one whole summer with Harry and Hermione. But despite the unexpected success there seemed to be a darkness lingering just around the corners.

He could not shake off the feeling of dread that had shot through his veins as the cold metal touched his palm. There seemed to be a tingle, a fine trace of magic that soaked in through the skin and crept inside him; he shuddered at the thought. He had literally dropped it on the table, the heavy metal and chain clinking down with an unnaturally loud noise. He was more than glad when Harry picked it up and tucked it inside the moleskin pouch he received from Hagrid. He released a sigh of relief as the object disappeared from view. Yes, one Horcrux was found. Unfortunately, they were still miles away from figuring out how to open it and without the Basilisk venom, or anything equally powerful and destructive, they were equally away from destroying it.

There was a soft muttering somewhere and he turned at the portrait of Phineas Nigellus Black. The barmy old wizard was once again muttering under his breath. He let out a few of his own choice words and turned to face the wall. It was lonely all by himself. Harry had taken up room in Sirius's old bedroom and Hermione was on the first floor, in the room she had once shared with Ginny.

The thought of Ginny sent a pang through his chest. Three days back in London, and he had still no news of his family. Just today morning, just to have something to do (and perhaps to ease the frustration of doing nothing), Harry had slipped off the house under the invisibility cloak and managed to sneak into the Leaky Cauldron and nick an old copy of the Daily Prophet. The situation was grim, and Harry told them that the familiar inn was nothing like they had known it to be. Fully cloaked figures were more common and there were no cheers of recognition but only fearful or suspicious glances exchanged. Hardly anyone sat enjoying a drink, and for the brief duration that Harry was there, he said it felt more like a just transit point for people visiting the Diagon Alley.

Hermione had berated Harry soundly before pulling away the Prophet from him and sitting down to devour every inch of news it held. A short while later she had thrown it away with a disgruntled sound proclaiming that the newspaper was nothing more than a Ministry memorandum now, an instrument for proclaiming their 'feats' and dictates. There seemed to be enormous coverage about a Muggle-Born Registration Program wherein every Muggle-Born witch or wizard was supposed to present themselves for interrogation. Ron thought briefly about the Creevy brothers before pulling it towards himself and scanning it for any mention of his family. He let out a loud sigh of relief having found none. Hopefully, in this case, no news was good news.

He was desperate for information and wondered how safe it would be to apparate to his childhood home, under the cloak of course, but Harry flat out refused to let him go. He declared that Ron could endanger both the family and himself by doing so. There could be protective wards around the Burrow that could seriously maim if not kill him, or the Weasleys might be under watch. In any case, they could not risk communicating with anyone of the family or the Order. Ron huffed in response, frustrated on being denied the chance and angry because he knew Harry was most possibly right.

Just before he left the room, she had met his eyes finally after days and held his gaze for longer than she had done in some time. There were understanding and sorrow and a fair amount of an emotion he was not ready to name. He had looked away and walked out, finding a strange sort of comfort in giving her back in kind.

...

The knock on his door was gentle and he waited without responding. Soon, the sound of the door opening was followed by her delicate footsteps. He waited till she reached the bed, not bothering to turn around towards her.

"Ron?"

He tried ignoring her, but it was easier said than done for he had craved to hear his name on her lips every minute this past week. So, egged on by his miserable heart, he rolled towards her careful not to display any emotion on his face. He wasn't sure he was doing a good job mainly because she slopped down on the bed next to him and crashed on his chest, whimpering.

Okay, he was angry with her and intended to stay that way for a while longer. However, the way her hair felt sprayed out on his chest and her face nudged his ribs through his sleeping tees was making him lose steam. He did not like it one bit.

"Why are you here?" his voice sounded scratchy and hurt, not quite as angry as he had been feeling.

She lifted up her face at his words, eyes brimming with unshed tears, "Oh! I'm so sorry Ron..." she whispered hoarsely.

Ron removed the hand that had somehow managed to wrap around her waist and placed it under his head instead giving him a slightly better angle to watch her.

"What did I do to garner such a treatment, Hermione? Surely it wasn't my imagination that you were ignoring me completely?" The anger was slowly creeping back into his heart and into his words. She lowered her eyes, biting her lower lip in that familiar fashion that made his heart yearn, but he continued to look at her straight. He needed answers; his life was strained enough without all the confusing signals that she kept sending his way.

He pushed himself up with a sigh. "Look, I'm already pretty messed up worrying about everyone back home." Getting off the bed altogether, he began pacing around the room, running his fingers through his hair.

"Can we just be frank with each other rather than playing these guessing games? We really ought to put our head in the Horcrux hunt; we can't possibly stay hidden forever. Whatever needs to be done needs to be done..." he paused and rubbed the back of his neck with his hand to ease the strain in the muscle.

It was a thought that bothered him greatly. All they did nowadays seemed to be sitting together wondering about their next course of action or going through the same discussion over and over again. He never voiced it aloud but he was getting a little frustrated with the lack of direction. Harry sat watching the words form and disappear on the snitch and Hermione continued to pour over one of the many books in her collection as if something in them would tell them where another Horcrux was hidden. She had no clue how to finish the one they had and had effectively rejected other options the book- Secrets of the Darkest Arts held, deeming them much too dangerous. A little part of him pointed out often that he too was contributing nothing. He had no clue what use a Deluminator would be to them, and he had had just as many ideas as the others, but then, he was neither the brightest one of the three nor the prophesised Saviour. He was a only soldier, one assigned guard-duty to keep the more important ones safe. _But what was he supposed to save them from when all they did was stay hidden in this old house?_

He wanted a break, a release from all the pent up emotions of dread, anxiety, confusion and hurt. It was too much and yet it was just a week into their journey. How would he survive when this task could take them months or quite possibly, even years? He turned at the young girl sitting on the bed. She was currently watching the blank portrait frame.

"You were here to tell me something." He said a little roughly and she turned around.

"Yeah- I..." she mumbled and he let out an exasperated sigh and collapsed on the bed next to her.

"Tell me, what is bothering you?" he asked a little more kindly this time.

"Ron?" Her voice was soft and somewhere between hopeful yet shy. He looked at that face, into those eyes that met his with enormous amounts of trust and something deep inside him softened. Suddenly he wasn't so angry anymore, his head was clearer. He felt lighter and released a deep breath.

"What is it, Hermione?" he asked tenderly, turning a little more to his left, taking in her features and allowing much necessary peace to seep into his heart again.

"I am sorry..." She looked down at her lap as if unable to continue while looking at him.

"You have said that before."

"I haven't said it enough, after- after what I did."

He paused without interrupting. It was obvious that whatever she had to say was difficult for her, and Hermione was never one to mince words unless it was something too personal that she wasn't comfortable voicing out.

"Ron, I- I have been brought up differently from you all," she said haltingly and he felt the familiar flames of anger begin to flicker inside him again. However, she did not notice the change in his eyes as she was concentrating on the intertwined fingers in her lap, and hence, continued.

"I was always encouraged to behave ladylike... and there were certain things that were not encouraged..."

"Like?" he asked a little roughly, cutting out a tirade of things he wanted to spill out.

"Like... expressing myself freely," her voice was almost a whisper, her head bent so low that he could hardly see her face.

"I am not getting it at all, Hermione." He exhaled.

She looked at his eyes briefly before averting her eyes. "I-I have been always taught to..." she gulped hard and her cheeks coloured before she continued, "keep my desires in check..." she whispered, and suddenly it clicked. He laughed softly to himself in relief. Turning around and settling down to face her, he placed his palms tenderly on her cheeks.

"Is this about that night outside the tent?" he asked hoarsely, and she nodded a little haltingly.

" _Yes_..." she whispered.

He remembered every single second of it. The way she flushed against him, the reckless abandon with which she came to him and initiated the intimacy.

"Are you scared of giving in to your desires, Hermione? Embarrassed about it? " he asked, his voice an octave lower. Suddenly the air around them felt more charged and he removed his hand from her face; the touch of her skin burning his, making him crave for more.

" _Y-Yes_..." She bit her lower lip and Ron let out a growl deep inside his throat. Things were clicking into place now. The way she was more comfortable in letting him have control during those moments. Hermione was extremely bossy in other aspects of life; he wasn't going to complain about taking the lead here.

"Still doesn't explain why you stopped talking to me, though, and for days no less." He asked hurt.

"I was scared, Ron, about the way I... about the way you make me feel... the way you make me act." She whispered very softly, but thankfully she seemed better poised to answer. "It was a little embarrassing the way I-I..." she met his eyes and for a moment, Ron could once again watch her on his lap, gripping his shoulders, his fingers inside her knickers, with her moving in a rhythm that caused blood rushing to his groin. Hermione gulped and averted her eyes as if she knew exactly what he was thinking.

"... quite inappropriate for our situation too." She managed. "But I couldn't keep away... _from you_ ," she confessed, blushing deeply and his heart whooped in joy, a grin breaking through.

"...The only other way I had, was to avoid staying alone with you... I know, I should have explained rather than leave you clueless, but it felt way too awkward to speak about it the first few days, and then, you looked so angry that I just couldn't bring it up..."

"You don't need to think so much, it's just me." He stated simply and allowed his gaze to linger on her face, loving the calm that she brought with her presence.

"I haven't had a proper nap in days, mind staying here tonight? We'll just sleep, I promise..." he asked and she smiled that radiant smile of hers that made his insides melt. He grinned back like an idiot.

They snuggled together under the covers, facing each other. He loved her warmth, the flowery fragrance that was distinctly her and took a deep breath.

"Are you okay?" he asked, shifting a little to give her more space.

"Yes," she replied smuggling closer.

"It's been crazy."

"I know."

They both paused for a moment before she broke the silence.

"I wish we had a way to find out about everyone back at the Burrow." She said haltingly, and he let out a sigh, straightening himself on his back and staring at the ceiling.

"Yeah." He mumbled and then turned towards her.

"Can you do that talking Patronus thing?" he inquired, unable to stop the hope from seeping into his words. She gave him a sad smile and shook her head in negative and his heart fell. He turned to stare at the ceiling again.

"But even if I could, they could be under watch, Ron. And in that case, it would do more harm than good." He nodded because there was nothing else to do.

And then it happened.

Ron did not know what hit him. It was like something physical knocked the air out of him along with the calm, and a strange kind of pain gripped his insides. It was a culmination of a hundred emotions- Ache and loathing, hatred and jealousy, and the familiar old feeling of being worthless. It lasted for a very short time, perhaps a few minutes, but that was enough to collapse the bubble of peace.

"Ron?" He turned towards her. She was eying him with confusion.

"Are you alright?" she asked placing her hand gently on his chest and he had to literally fight the urge to push her hand away. It made no sense.

Rather than responding, he closed his eyes shut, willing the feelings and images away- Hermione sneering at him in the library, Malfoy throwing jibes about his poverty, Fred transfiguring his teddy into a spider, the atrocious dress-robes that had made him a laughing stock...

The feelings vanished as they had come- all of a sudden, and he gulped in large volumes of air in relief.

"I'm okay, just a little... Never mind..." he told her with a forced smile. She looked unconvinced but did not question further. Placing her head on his shoulder, she closed her eyes.

But sleep nowhere in sight for him. After her breathing slowed down to a soft rhythm, he allowed himself to look at her. Her arm was draped over his chest while she was pressed closed to his side.

 _What was he doing? How had he forgotten all that he had decided months ago in this very room? Why was he allowing her to get so close? Tomorrow,_ he decided. _Tomorrow he would do what he had to, the right thing._ He had to trust his instinct, and it was desperately trying to tell him something-

 _This security was an illusion. Time was running out._

* * *

 _ **A/N:**_

A heartfelt thanks to all my reviewers for taking the time to let me know your views. I have a pile of responses to revert to but hope to reply to all of you!

Thanks to **Yoli** and **Guest reviewer** for your reviews for the previous chapter and all the others **Guests** who have left me a feedback in the earlier chapters. Thank you! The registered users will find my response in your inbox.

I think a footnote here is necessary as far as Hermione is concerned. I am not sure how many of you will agree to this shy version of her. But personally, I have always had a feeling that no matter how outspoken and bold she is, in the matters of the heart and physical intimacy, she would be a rather private and shy person. In the books, she fights and bickers with Ron and even hugs him but once their feelings come up, she doesn't really take the lead. It seemed to me like she was willing and rather preferred Ron to take the initiative. She was more about giving him subtle hints(which he hardly catches in the initial years, but that's a different story). Moreover, her parents have always felt very strict and by the book, and I feel would be a little old school about the physical aspects of a relationship which she might have inherited. So all this played into this characterization, and anyway, this story is AU which means I had to fit her into the cast of an Aristocratic, pureblood elite, which draws heavy influence from the British high society of around the 18th century. I'm not sure how OOC I have made her. Looking forward to your reviews, thanks for reading!


	42. Breathlessness

**A/N:** Finally the reviews are showing!

I am so glad that you guys agree with the characterization of Hermione for this story; that was truly a relief. I'm going to revert to each of your queries but to answer one thing that has come from quite a few of you, well... this story was meant to be dark right from the beginning and I won't give you false hopes and say it will be all flowery. Yes, we have very dark times approaching, but as I said before, there will be a resolution worth the wait.

I might not draw this story beyond the war because honestly, I don't really see this plot extending so far. But yes, if you all are willing to read, I might be able to edit ending, leaving a gap for a post-war sequel.

 **All Character Rights belong to JKR.**

* * *

 **Chapter 41: Breathlessness**

All their possessions, from all their clothes to her books and a small assortment of other essential items including a folded up tent, was spread out on the huge kitchen table. Hermione sat in one of the chairs, sorting through the paraphernalia and dividing them into three neat groups.

Her mind kept travelling back to those moments in the early morning hours almost a couple of weeks ago when she had woken up in his bed after a rather peaceful night of sleep. Surprisingly, though, Ron had appeared to not have slept at all. She clearly remembered his stubble that was darker than the previous night and those eyes that looked pained and troubled. Hermione remembered that dread in her heart; it was a look she had seen before and it usually preceded the times when he would slip into one of his moodiness. That look never brought good news. Trying her best to sound cheerful, she had wished him a good morning. He had asked for a promise in return.

 _Was she surprised?_ Not really. At least, he had not asked her to go away, or forget whatever unnamed existed between them. He had asked her to put the fight before them; asked her to place the success of their mission before everything. Hermione knew he didn't doubt her dedication to their hunt. Perhaps he was telling her indirectly to keep their feelings in check till they were in better times, perhaps he was setting up limits for himself? She wasn't sure. But she gave him that promise and noticed how the lines near his eyes, the ones that weren't even supposed to be there in the first place, eased at her words and he gave her a broken but relieved sigh.

"What are you doing?"

She turned around to find the very person of her thoughts in front of her. He looked shaggy with that week long stubble he refused to shave and that messy head of hair. He was never one to carefully tuck his shirt in and button up his cuffs, but even by his carefree standards, Ron looked dishevelled. It was not a new sight, in fact, it had steadily deteriorated over the past couple of weeks. Hermione often felt that there was something deep within him that troubled him. Each time Harry managed to nick a newspaper, he would be the first to pull it from his hands and go through it. Neither she nor Harry was unaware of what Ron was searching, and she craved to pull him into a hug and will the anguish on his face away. Most often than not, Harry patted on his back like grown up boys like them were prone to do, a gesture she supposed translated into an understanding hug in their language. But every time, Ron shrugged the hand away and marched off.

She force stopped her train of thoughts and pulled her eyes away from his face.

"Umm... I thought since we are here and settled, I might as well sort our things and take them to our rooms. You know, so that you both don't have to come rushing to me for everything little thing."

"DON'T!"

His sharp voice shocked her and she glanced sideways at Harry who had snapped his head up from the list to watch Ron -the parchment with the list of places they had decided to search for the remaining Horcruxes lay forgotten in his hands.

"Something wrong, Mate?" he asked dropping the parchment on the table, furrowing his brows.

Ron looked lost. It seemed as if there were a hundred things he wanted to say but wasn't able to word out. He glanced between the two of them, cleared his throat and ran his fingers through his hair.

"N-Nothing. Just keep that ruddy thing packed. Makes me feel safer somehow," he said a little pensively.

"Why? Do you think they'll find us here?" inquired Harry, his brows scrunching up further.

"I-I don't know. I know we have put up more spells and... they might not but-", Ron ran his fingers through his hair again and Hermione noticed how lifeless it looked, nothing like the vibrant and shiny mane she was accustomed to. Ron was still struggling with his words and after a while, his shoulders drooped giving him a defeated sort of look that broke her heart more than anything.

"I can't really explain, okay?" he said in a broken voice and pulling a chair, slumped down in front of them. "We have had two narrow escapes so far," he sighed and met her eyes with his disturbed ones. He picked up the almost empty bag from the table and fingered its beads as he spoke.

"Each time, this tiny thing saved the things that would have been lost otherwise. Just- Just keep it packed."

She knew she would agree to his silent plea. It did not matter that they were perhaps in one of the safest places, it did not matter that Ron's statements seemed to come from an emotional point of view rather than a logically explained perspective, it did not matter that since no one of had come calling so far Harry deemed this place a perfect hideout. If Ron felt safe with the tiny bag packed, she would keep it that way.

...

Harry had not failed to notice how Ron's overall appearance had changed in the weeks following their arrival at Grimmauld Place. He had just been too busy with his thoughts to give Ron more attention. And somehow, this hunt was affecting them all, wasn't it? It was like being put into a giant jigsaw puzzle- they could barely see all the pieces, let alone solve the whole damn thing. Names, images and broken information haunted his days and nights, the more he tried untangling the threads of truth, the worse they got. He felt like he was carrying a lot of weight and not just mentally. It was as if something was choking him from within and more often than not, he was prone to waking up in the middle of the night gasping for air.

"What is the matter, Ron?" he asked, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand. The place where the string of the moleskin pouch he wore touched his skin, felt raw and itchy.

Ron met his eyes, and for the first time, Harry actually noticed how dreadful the other boy looked. Suddenly, he felt anger well inside. _What right did Ron have to act so troubled when he was the one who was burdened with the task of saving of their world?_ The raw skin tingled in a painful way and he felt an urgent desire to remove the pouch just to rid himself of the itch.

"Come on Ron! What the hell is the matter with you?" he spat before he could stop himself. Ron met his eyes with something indescribable in his eyes, something he had never seen in those blue eyes before.

"I'm not exactly sure, mate." He mumbled in response looking away.

"Then find out and get your head in the game!" he said harshly, surprising himself along with the others. The itch was getting more pronounced now. He heaved trying to release the binding sensation inside his throat, rubbing his chest with his hand absentmindedly. But since nothing seemed to help, he pulled the string and removing the pouch, set it aside on the table amidst the other items that were already spread out on it.

"I'm trying."

Harry looked up to meet those blue eyes once more, trying to grasp the reason why he was feeling a little better already. _Was the pouch too heavy to be worn around the neck?_ After all, he had stuffed quite a few thing inside it- the broken piece of Sirius' mirror, the Snitch Dumbledore left him, the locket and last but not the least, the letter and torn piece of the photograph he had found in Sirius' room a couple of weeks back...

"Ron, is something wrong?" Hermione's voice was calm and tender, her hand mere inches away from Ron's. Harry noticed how his best mate glanced away from something to look at Hermione and shook his head a little haltingly.

"Nothing. I- I'm just not feeling very good..."

Hermione was out of her seat in an instant and began fumbling around with a few phials set at the far end of the table. "Oh! Are you feverish? Or, are those bruises hurting you still?" she gushed reading off the labels and glancing at him intermittently.

"I'm sorry, mate," Harry stated, surprised how warm and concerned he felt for Ron, just opposite to how he was feeling a while ago.

"I guess being cooped up is getting on our nerves." He added with a sigh. _Yes, that could be the reason._ Ron had not stepped out since the day they had arrived, and they were yet to get any news from the Weasleys. He tried looking out for them, but it seemed the entire family was avoiding the Leaky Cauldron. He felt bad about not taking Ron along, or giving him the cloak, but in all honestly, he wasn't sure that Ron would not end up doing something rash like visiting the Burrow. Hermione was coping rather well, but then, he realised with a pang of guilt, _she_ was used to staying in confined quarters for some time now.

"I'm not feverish." Muttered the ginger as Hermione approached him with a small phial. "I'm just-"

" _Just_ what?" he asked but with a lot more concern this time.

"I don't really know..." Ron replied averting his eyes.

"Maybe you need some fresh air." He suggested and the guy opposite to him for once looked like the boy he had known since he was eleven.

"Yeah... I guess..." he added with a hint of a smile.

"Great, then go and change, I'm not talking you out like this." He joked pointing at Ron's dishevelled appearance.

"Oi! We'll be under the cloak anyway!" Grinned Ron in a faint resembled of his earlier self. His eyes still looked tired, though.

"You look like you got out of Hog's Head, mate! Just go!" he responded playfully and watched his best mate shake his head and pull himself up from the chair to walk out. He was sure he heard a 'wanker' as the door closed.

Harry turned around to find Hermione smiling to herself and busy re-packing her bag.

"So you are doing as he said?" he asked pushing himself back on the chair.

"If it makes him feel any better," she responded softly, "And he is right, no harm in staying prepared." She added. He noticed how fondly she drew her palm over the 'R' on Ron's Weasley jumper before carefully placing it inside the bag with the rest of Ron's clothes.

"He looks worn out." He said averting his eyes, concentrating instead on rolling up the parchment he was reading earlier.

"He is worried about his family. It's natural isn't it?" she responded shaking her head sadly as she continued to place little stacks of items inside the bag.

"Yeah, but I don't know... what we can do?"

"Maybe sneak around the Ministry entrance? Maybe you'll be able to see Mr Weasley?" she suggested before shaking her head again. "No, wait! I don't know... Will that be safe at all?!"

"I guess not." He replied with a non-committal shrug although in his heart he knew he would give it a try.

"We've been hiding for almost a month now." She said after a while with a definite hint of sadness in her voice.

"I know..." he replied, a familiar feeling of guilt creeping up his chest at her words. A month- a month since Voldemort had taken over, a month of innumerable deaths and tortures. And what had they accomplished in this one month?

 _Nothing._

They had retrieved one Horcrux but there was nothing remotely heroic in pulling it out from amidst the sleeping quarters of his house-elf, was there? It would have been a different story if they could have managed to finish it, but that avenue seemed to be closed for good. Perhaps they could sneak inside Hogwarts and get the sword? After all, why wouldn't McGonagall help them with it? It seemed like an idea worth putting their heads into, he thought a little hopefully.

"Harry?"

He looked up to meet Ron's eyes. He looked marginally better with a fresh set of clothes and hair tidied up.

"Do you reckon, it will be safe leaving Hermione here all by herself?"

"I'll be alright." She quipped. "You both go ahead. Just don't be late." She added. But he could see clearly that Ron wasn't convinced.

"Shouldn't we go together?" Ron suggested.

"We three won't fit inside the cloak together, not without displaying our legs." He contemplated aloud.

"Oh, come on both of you! I'll be alright!" she argued back cutting their conversation midway.

Harry looked at Ron who was obviously swaying between his eagerness to leave the house on one hand and his concern about leaving her back alone on the other.

"Kreacher!" he called suddenly and the elf materialised instantly, giving the three of them low bows.

"Kreacher, Ron and I will leave for a while. Stay with Hermione and ensure no one apart from us is able to enter the house." He said. "Can you do it?"

"Yes, Master." croaked back the old creature with another bow. Feeling surer he looked at Ron.

"Ready to go now?" he asked the taller guy who glanced at the tiny form of the elf and the girl who was giving him an encouraging smile.

He heard Ron sigh softly as he returned his gaze.

"Yes."

...

They sat on a broken down bench watching boys slightly younger than them play football. This particular park, as Harry had found out, was not very far away from the Black House and was a common hangout point for teenage boys. It reminded him of the playground near his Aunt's place back in Surrey.

"I envy their carefree life," confessed Ron. They had shed the cloak in a secluded alley, feeling that the open muggle surrounding would help them blend in with a crowd that was almost their age.

"I do it too." Harry agreed, glancing next to the figure who sat with his elbows on his knees, eyes trained on the ball that was passed in between a bunch of dusty boys.

"What's troubling you, mate?" he asked softly, not quite sure how Ron would react. His moodiness and temper were almost his constant companions nowadays and one of the main reasons why Harry had held back from an open confrontation. He wasn't exactly at peace with himself either.

Ron leant back on the bench, prodding the dried grass with the tip if his shoes.

"I told you. I am not exactly sure, Harry. I don't know..." He said and paused. Harry almost let out a frustrated grunt but held himself back just as Ron began to speak again.

"I wonder if it's the place, Harry... I mean...Remember how gloomy Sirius used to be while he stayed here? If I remember correctly he looked far happier living in a cave and feeding on rats than he did staying in this place."

"You do have a point Ron but he had bad memories of this place, and we have stayed here before, you were never like this." He replied.

"I wasn't, was I? But none of us were exactly happy here ever, were we? Remember last year? I used to be angry all the time..."

"That was for a different reason, Ron." He laughed softly although nothing was funny here.

"Yes..." Ron returned a strained grin.

No matter how preoccupied he had been, Harry had not missed how his two friends had resolved whatever issues they had had during their stay in the Granger Forest. He had known better than to intervene and as expected, the two had sorted things out. He thought he knew when that had happened too. After all, that was the night he had found his mother's letter and had come running to Ron. But just before he could knock, he had heard voices and had just about stopped himself from barging in. He had paused only for a few minutes outside the door contemplating on interrupting a private moment, but finally, had left the two alone. They could do with a few hours of peace and he could breathe easier with two best friends who were not tiptoeing in front of each other uncomfortably.

"Harry..."

"Yeah?" he replied looking back at his mate.

"Do you reckon it's the Horcrux?" Ron's words were a murmur and Harry almost didn't hear him amidst all the cheering and voices around them.

"The Horcrux?" he questioned in a low whisper.

"It's been here all this time, what if it causes all these crazy dr-, I mean these crazy thoughts?" he asked consciously.

"I'm not sure if it can work that way, Ron." He replied thinking back on everything they knew about the Horcruxes. The Diary had possessed Ginny, but neither Ron nor Sirius or he for that matter were possessed. He had had the Diary for a while too but he could not remember being so disturbed. He felt around his chest for the pouch realising that he had left it behind at Grimmauld Place, and suddenly Ron's suggestion of keeping their belongings always with them did not seem stupid anymore.

 _But could that piece of soul, locked inside a gold locket have so much influence over them?_

"We can ask Hermione. I hope she finds something in that book of hers." He added finally and turned to look at the players again.

"You don't think we are safe here, do you?" he questioned, still looking away.

"I don't think we are safe anywhere, Harry," replied Ron with a strange sort of strength in his voice that was not there before.

"I've seen what they did to the Granger Mansion, mate. And that place had some of the freakishly crazy precautions around it. If they broke through that, nothing else stands a chance."

Harry couldn't deny he hated Ron for saying these things, especially because he was stating the harsh facts without any coating of hope, however false, however dim.

"What do you suggest we do?"

"Stay prepared to move, think of locations we can escape to, and Harry?" he turned those blue eyes towards him and Harry could see that Ron had seriously given some thought to it.

"Tell Kreacher to escape if something does go wrong. All that information is still inside him. If we can get it, he can too."

A chill ran down Harry's spine and he got up hurriedly.

"Let's go."

They walked as casually as they could, and once back in the dark alley, pulled on the cloak over them before apparating back.

The last thought in Harry's mind before the nauseating feeling of apparition took over was how similar their roles in life was to their positions on the Quidditch team- He was the Seeker- the one seeking answers, and Ron was their Keeper – the one guarding them and working on keeping them alive and _in the game- till Harry caught the Snitch._

* * *

 _ **A/N:**_ I know this chapter is shorter than you are used to, but that is because the next part would have to be broken in two parts otherwise and that I wasn't willing to do!

Thanks to each one of you who continue to read this story and motivate me by following and adding this to your favourites. Thanks a lot if you have left me a review. I was unable to answer (yet again) the previous time because my kid fell sick. But this time, I'll start replying right after I upload this.

 **Ron's Lover:** Oh God, I don't even know how to say this, but things are going to be bad! Apologies in advance!

 **Yoli:** That part you want to read is almost here. And thank you, that you guys feel I should have won is gratifying in itself.

 **nellysh and Guest Reviewers 1, 2 and 3** (Please mention a name, easier for me to address you!) :Thank you for supporting the characterisation and taking the time to leave me a feedback!

Thanks to each one of you for reading!


	43. The Quinte-Feuille Cottage

**A/N:** Thanks to each one of you reading this story.

 **All Characters are the sole property of JKR.**

* * *

 **Chapter 42: The Quinte-Feuille Cottage**

The announcement came in the late hours of the night, and within minutes, frenzied but strictly instructed quills went to work to make the announcement public.

 **Ex-Potions Master, Severus Snape named Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.**

Not a word about his dark past, not a word about the underlying hands of evil that, with one single move, took over the destinies of the hundred little minds that were the future of the wizardkind.

He would have been _here_ sooner but there were basics to take care of first- claim the office of the one great man who had given him a reason to live after everything he lived for, had been snatched away by the same son-of-devil he called his master now.

And it was there, as the new Headmaster of a school that was to be a breeding ground for hundreds of other Bellatrixes and Pettigrews, that he had received his next orders. But not from the man who called himself Lord. This order came from none other than the master strategist himself –Albus Dumbledore or rather the portrait of Dumbledore, one that stood right behind the Headmaster's desk.

He looked at the secret building squeezed between two ignorant muggle houses and waited in the shadows of the trees that lined the park opposite. Even through the heavily draped windows of the living room on the first floor, faint beams of light escaped out to fall on the deserted streets in front of Number 12, Grimmauld Place.

" _You know the secret entrance, Severus. That will still allow you in no matter what protections they might have put up. But careful, they will not take to your appearance well."_

The entrance had been created almost a year and a half ago by the dead Headmaster himself, and although he had not really understood the significance of the hidden door back at that time, he had allowed himself a satisfied smirk imagining the face of the previous owner, his nemesis- Sirius Black. Now, however, he realised that this was only one more piece put in its place by the great wizard himself to aid in his master plan. He had seen more than any one of them, and he knew much more.

He moved further back in the shadows, his long flapping cloak not making a sound as he stood watching the faint beam of light- waiting for it to disappear.

...

The nightmares were back.

Ron hated the route his head was taking him towards. He hated the doubts that lingered in his mind, just below the surface, and the mistrust that was breeding inside his heart. He hated that voice that jeered inside his head whenever they sat together, the voice that laughed and taunted how he was chosen to be the scapegoat in this one great adventure. It laughed at him for being the expendable Albus Dumbledore had chosen to accompany the two greatest Hogwarts students of their generation – one the brightest, the other the most famed and the prophesied saviour.

 _Of course, he was chosen to be the guard,_ it said, _the one to ensure their safety and if need be, the one to lay down his life to save the others. Who else would be chosen for this if not him, the one person with a brood of other, more important siblings; the one who would be missed the least by his family –by his mother , the one, mediocre Ronald Weasley? The one who would gladly lay down his life for his best mate and now for the girl Dumbledore had intentionally put under his care to ensure she entrapped his heart enough?_

 _And, if by some massive stroke of luck, they did manage to win this, who would get the credit other than the famous Harry Potter? Hermione Granger, yes for sure she would get her fair share of accolades but what would he get? Scoffing? The title of the weakest link in the trio; the one who had perhaps pulled the other two brilliant minds down..._

What did he stand to gain? – Nothing.

What did he stand to lose? - Everything.

Only he had left a family behind to choose this mission. It was _his_ family, the ones marked as blood traitors. He might not mean much to them but they sure meant a lot to him. It could easily be anyone from _his_ family- _his_ brothers, _his_ parents or _his_ little sister who would be taken as a captive, asked in exchange for either Harry or Hermione or perhaps both. And what would he do if that happened? Who would he choose to save?

If they lost this war, his entire family would be the first to be slaughtered for _his_ 'mistakes'. If they won – they would bear the brunt of his 'fortune and fame hunting.' Either way, it was his loss.

And he stood to lose _her_.

 _She will choose someone better. You must be blind not to see it_ \- said the voice every time she smiled at him. _She lies when she says she is shy about intimacy – she lies because she has shared it with others- Krum and perhaps even Malfoy. She says she is shy because she doesn't want it displayed in front of Harry. How will she play the same innocent card with him otherwise? You are a fool Ronald – a blind fool. She might be sharing it with Harry even now, every day that you are together under one roof- while you sleep, while they pretend to discuss other important things..._ hissed the voice in his ears when she lowered her lashes.

"NO! Harry won't ever do that to me, she won't either!" he convinced himself silently each time and the voice laughed, an ugly, bone-chilling sort of laugh while the others looked at him in confusion, and then at each other- something unspoken passing between them. And he hated those minutes when he almost believed it – _the voice_.

It was another night of those dreams that never went away. And this time, he had woken up soaking wet in that empty room that was devoid even of the other occupant, the portrait. Hermione had taken it down a few days back trying to coax Senior Black into passing a message to McGonagall. But as far as Ron knew, the obnoxious ex-Headmaster had so far refused to relent.

Hermione...She was the reason for his present distress, or rather, her thoughts were.

He left the room because today the nightmare was about the moments he had shared with Hermione in his father's tool shed. Only this time it was not a dilapidated shed but a posh gazebo in a mansion, and this time, the person wasn't him but Victor Krum, her one-time suitor.

He had left the door open and gone down the steps as silently as he could towards the living room, trying every second to wipe out the image of a semi-naked Hermione lying down on a marble bench, her curls spread around her head as she moaned in pleasure while the familiar form of the Bulgarian Seeker lay on top of her, his face buried between her breasts.

He lit the candles with a swish of his wand flooding the enormous room with light as if that would somehow wipe out the darkness in his heart. Flopping down on the ancient couch, he leant back drawing in deep breaths to ease the pain in his chest. He lay there for longer than he knew, slowly going through the events of his past, contradicting each and every accusation the voice spurned against Harry and Hermione with memories of his own; memories of their times together. He would not believe a word of what it said, of what it tried to convince him.

Finally, when it was long enough, he pulled himself up, convincing his heart to go back to his room again. There was no point in troubling the others by falling asleep here. But that task was a lot easier said than done. Ron knew he was just whiling away the minutes as he first moved to stand near the set up chess board contemplating on playing a match with himself, and then, moved away to stand near the window. The long, dark drapes were pulled close. No one who did not know of the existence of house would be able to see him so he pulled the curtains away slightly to look at the empty street ahead.

And that is when he saw the figure.

It was a brief moment, but that was enough. Ron knew that movement; he had spent years watching that familiar motion of limbs – the bat like fraying of a pitch black cloak. Terror and hate, in equal measure, engulfed his insides, pushing away all doubts that had been trying to pull him back so far.

He left the candles alit and rushed outside the room, moving as fast as his sleep-deprived legs would carry him. He knocked on her door first mainly because it was on the same floor. She answered on the second knock,

" _Ron?_ " she asked groggily before taking in the paleness of his face.

"He is here." He managed and before the confused look on her face disappeared, pulled her out of the room.

"Where is the bag?"

"In there." She indicated the bedside table, still looking a little lost.

"Is it packed?"

"Yes."

"Wand?" he inquired striding inside quickly, picking and pocketing the said article while she stood at the door watching him.

"Y-Yes." She said pulling out the wood from her jeans pocket as if for proof and shoving it back.

"Come on," he called as soon as he was done and pulled her along without further ado. He practically ran up the stairs almost dragging her behind him.

"Ron! Wha-"

"Snape is outside." He huffed while they flew up the steps and felt her grip his hand harder at his words.

She let out a sharp cry, finally catching on with the urgency and matching steps with his longer legs as best as she could manage.

"How?!" she panted in a shocked whisper.

Ron did not answer but on and on they climbed up the innumerable steps till the third floor, bumping into each other and hitting the walls occasionally at the corners. He heard her cry out softly as she bumped against the sharp edge of the railing but she didn't stop and he didn't slow down either.

"No clue. Not sure if he has his friends with him either." He said huffed breathlessly. They had to get out of this place and they had to do it fast.

"We have to leave!" she managed between heavy breaths herself, speaking his thoughts aloud as they moved up the stairs faster than before.

They were only feet away from Harry's room when she stopped suddenly and pulled him back.

"Ron!" she called and he almost slid down being pulled back without warning.

"Don't tell him it's Snape." She stated urgently. "He'll want to stay and fight but we are not prepared." She reasoned in hushed whispers and he paused a minute before he nodded.

"He's going to hate it if we lie-"

"We have to leave, Ron!" she admonished. "The last thing we can risk is getting caught."

"Alright." He replied, fighting to listen to her sound reasoning rather than giving in to his innate desire of facing the two faced bastard. But the situation called for them to live today to fight tomorrow. Taking her hand in his once again, he pushed open Harry's door without knocking.

"Harry!" they called in unison as Ron bent over his sleeping form and shook him awake urgently. The moleskin pouch, his wand and glasses lay on the table next to the bed. Harry woke up rather quickly and pulled on his glasses on instinct.

"Ron?! Hermione?! What's happening?"

"Death Eaters outside, Harry! We've got to leave!" she said with a fleeting sideways glance at Ron. She wasn't exactly lying.

In a matter of seconds, the boy was up. "Kreacher!" he called while tying his shoelaces with utmost speed. The elf materialised in a minute and bowed low, without any hint of surprise at the strange behaviour of his master.

"Leave for Hogwarts and stay hidden there along with the other elves, just like I told you, alright?" Harry instructed urgently. Then, pulling the moleskin pouch and picking up his wand, he moved closer to the others even as the elf disappeared with a loud crack.

"Where are we going? G-Granger Forest?" Hermione inquired tentatively as the three of them held hands in the silent and dark room.

"NO!" Ron spat aloud before he knew, suddenly feeling a sharp pang of fear gripping him hard. He focused on breathing in deeply and concentrating with all his might on the present. Something dark and gloomy seemed to have gripped his heart within a span of minutes. He eyed the pouch hanging from Harry's neck and gulped down a feeling of extreme unease.

"No, they are sure to know you are with us." He told her. _Snape would know_. "We need some other place."

She paused and looked at the boys as precious minutes trickled by. Ron could almost hear his heart thumping inside him while Harry fidgeted next to him impatiently. He ears were trained on the unnaturally silent surrounding, waiting for the gentle opening of a door or the loud crack of a wall being blasted away. He assumed that the Death Eater would be more interested in taking them alive. In that case, Snape would be more discrete and would likely resort to using some of those hundreds of spells that would have been illegal under the old Ministry rules.

"Come on, Hermione!" urged Harry impatiently, pulling him back to the present.

She glanced once at both of them, grasping his hand a little more tightly. Ron closed his eyes momentarily to remove the nightmarish images that flashed in front of his eyes at her touch.

"Trust me and don't leave my hand." She said just before the familiar tug of apparition drew them away.

...

They stood in the middle of a vast open meadow; at least that was what Ron could make out in the darkness. It felt a little unnerving and exposed to be out in the open after having spent so many days cloistered inside the Grimmauld Place.

"Where are we?" He asked in a guarded whisper while concentrating straight ahead. Was that a building? No, more like a small shack that stood right in the middle of...well, nowhere. Either that or the night was much too dark to make out anything.

He turned around towards the girl who had brought them there, waiting for some kind of an answer, but Hermione was already busy. She had flipped out her wand and was waving it in front of them in unfamiliar motions.

He glanced towards his best mate instead. Now that his eyes were accustomed to the darkness he could make out Harry's general form, and even without being able to actually see his expression, Ron knew what had to be done. Turning around with his back towards Hermione, he held his wand poised, knowing by instinct that Harry had done the same on the other end.

It took a few more minutes before she spoke up.

"Come..." she called out to both of them and gently and gracefully began making her way towards the lone structure that stood in front.

The boys followed in her wake casting feeble lights from the tip of their wands to illuminate the path right ahead of them. With every step he took, Ron expected something or someone to leap out from somewhere. But the silence of the night was only broken by three pairs of muted footsteps that fell on a narrow strip of the path that was devoid of the thick growth of grass that grew all around them.

Once they were close enough, Ron realised that the structure that had appeared to be a run-down shack was actually a cabin which, surprisingly, looked quite well maintained to be abandoned. Hermione pushed open the door and the candles inside lit up on their own, illuminating a small living quarter that, according to Ron at least, was better furnished than the Gryffindor common room.

Hermione closed the door once all the three had entered, and let out a small sigh which was somewhere between a relief and a groan.

"So far so good," she whispered softly to no one in particular.

"Care to tell us now?" Harry sounded irate but Ron could not blame him completely. The anxiety was killing him too. He noticed, that just like him, Harry too was still standing near the door, wand poised and alert.

Hermione who was slowly and fondly rubbing her palm over the lush settee turned around, sniffed back a tear and rubbed her palm almost consciously at the corner of the eyes.

"There is a lot to explain. You both better sit down." She called softly. Ron turned at the right minute to notice Harry meet his eyes but the boys did as she asked.

He lowered himself down on the second couch that sat opposite to the settee with an ornate centre table between them. Harry joined him and Hermione was the only one who took her seat with enough grace to do justice to their surroundings.

"This is the Quinte-Feuille Cottage... the secret entrance and security point of the Chateau Quinte-Feuille." Her head hung low on her lap and she spoke in a hushed whisper as if reading from a book only she could see. Ron noticed the familiar biting of the lip that usually indicated her anguished state and had almost pulled himself up to sit next to her when she looked up. Her eyes glistened with moisture which she perhaps either didn't know of or didn't care to hide.

"This was my birthday present for coming of age."

A soft gasp escaped his lips.

Next to him Harry let out a familiar sound of surprise. "This property belongs to your family?" he asked.

"Not my family, j-just me." She replied a little uncomfortably. She met Ron's eyes and he could easily make out the discomfort in her voice but she looked away and answered Harry instead.

"Father had this constructed last year." She began with a soft, sad sigh. "They told me about it when I went home for the Easter holidays during the fifth year. Grangers are, I mean, _were_ a little paranoid when it came to security." She gave out a small mirthless chuckle.

"The area around this place is, as expected, warded against Muggles and intruders. And the Chateau itself is rendered invisible. Anyone who manages to even get this far will only be able to see this cottage, but it will appear to be a broken down shack."

"How could we come in without any harm?" he asked aloud remembering how the Granger Mansion had failed to recognise Hermione after her parents' death.

"I know what you are asking, Ron. The Granger Mansion and the vaults are all in Father's name, bound to his magic. I must legally claim the property for me to inherit those. But this one here is bound to my magic; it will recognise me even if the world thinks I am dead. In a way, I am the owner and the Secret Keeper for this place... _so far_." She added- the last couple of words almost inaudibly.

"Why didn't you bring us here when we escaped from the Burrow?" inquired Harry a little roughly.

"Because I had forgotten about this place, this has less protection than the Manor, and-and I wanted to go home..." she replied while looking away.

"That's alright." He blurted out before Harry questioned her intentions further. He wasn't feeling very good about Harry's attitude. She had saved their life; he had no reason to be short with her.

"So this is where we stay?" he inquired glancing around. It seemed big enough for three people, but the main concern was elsewhere. "What protections are there around this place? Shouldn't we set up some more?"

"Hold on," interrupted Harry.

"How likely are we to be found out here, Hermione? Snape knows you are with us. They will check out every property your family owned." Though he still sounded a little rude for Ron's liking, the logic wasn't something he could deny.

"This is not listed under my father's name. The land belonged to my maternal Grandmother who left it for her grandchild. The location is a family secret. It will not be easy to trace." She offered.

It was difficult to say if Harry was totally convinced but he brought ahead no further questions and Hermione turned towards Ron.

"The Chateau is a much safer bet than the Cottage," she began, once again with the hint of discomfort and Ron decided that there was definitely more to this.

"What is it, Hermione? Speak up. We have to set up those enchantments. You know, they will not give up searching us so easily now that Harry has escaped capture twice."

"I know they won't..."

"So what are you waiting for?" snapped Harry and Hermione looking more agonised than before, flinched at his tone.

"It's the Chateau that is the safest bet we have. This place, as I said, is the Security point for the Chateau. T-The magic linking the two places needs us to- to," she looked between the boys quickly and looked away before finishing her sentence, "assign a guard before we can start residing there..." she finished in a quieter voice.

"Assign a guard? So, what is the problem? We take up guard duties by turn." Quipped Harry in a confused tone but Ron knew this was not so simple. What she was talking about was ancient magic. _This_ was the reason why she hadn't brought them here in the first place; _this_ was the reason why she was so uncomfortable.

"It's not so simple, mate." He replied looking at Hermione who met his eyes at his words. He realised, she knew that he knew.

"I'll do it." He told her.

The shadow of distress disappeared from her eyes to be replaced by horror.

"Will someone tell me what the hell is going on?" fumed Harry looking between the two as he banged his hands on his sides.

Ron looked away from Hermione to look at his best mate instead.

"If I am not wrong, it's an ancient form of magic, Harry. I've heard stories from my Grandpa. Earlier, the rich and mighty would secure a house by placing a Security Point ahead of it. A wizard would then be assigned its guard, which meant that he would become the Secret Keeper of this place. But unlike the Fidelius Charm, in this case, the Secret Keeper would make something similar to an Unbreakable Vow which means he would swear on his life not to disclose the location of the property, _ever_."

"A-And that's not all..." added Hermione guiltily.

"The spell was designed for a person outside the family. It would have to be someone other than the owners of the place, who would themselves be free to pass on the information to their heirs. Furthermore, he would be the assigned guard for every person living in the property, as long as they lived there, in other words, he was responsible for their protection too."

While Harry continued to look at him in shock, Hermione fidgeted in her seat.

"And _you_ are offering to take this up? Are you insane?!" he managed after a few speechless minutes.

"We don't need to stay in the Chateau at all. We three can live here." Hermione declared finally, the discomfort was gone and a strange determination radiated through her.

"I agree." Harry added quickly, "We don't have to do this. Just let's place the protections around the cottage." He added as Hermione nodded in agreement.

The two moved up quickly from their places and made towards the door as Ron continued to remain seated.

"You both are letting emotions rule your judgement." He called aloud and Harry gave out a loud bark of a laugh that almost sounded eerie in their current predicament.

" _You_ are talking about emotions ruling our judgement?! Now I have seen everything." He snickered.

Ron groaned and turned towards his friends, frustrated.

"Happy to have made you laugh, mate, but hear me out!"

"There is nothing to hear you out. We camped in the middle of a forest, Ron! We'll manage quite well here." Hermione said sharply. "Don't make me regret bringing you here." She added in a softer voice.

"Exactly, you brought us here because you knew that the Chateau is our safest bet, you said so yourself!" he retorted angrily.

"Not at the cost of you!" she spat back before taking a back-step, flustered at her own declaration.

He gave her a small smile and rubbed the back of his neck.

"Look, guys, this is really simple. It's really no big deal! I would do it for you anyway." He shrugged. "Or is it that you both don't trust me with your life?" he mocked trying to ease the situation, trying to convince them with a jest.

"I don't trust you **not** to give up your life to save ours, you prat!" barked Harry, annoyed.

"That's it, mate!" he laughed. "I'd do it anyway if need be. This is just a formality! It will open up more protections which we definitely need. Come on, you two! Hermione, just do it." He urged extending his right hand forward on instinct. She looked torn and guilty and on the verge of tears.

"Wait, I'll do it."

Ron groaned and turned towards Harry exasperatedly.

"No you can't and you won't." He said simply before turning back at Hermione.

"I can and I will." He spat back.

He let out a huge tired sigh. "Look, mate. I know you are the hero, the one great saviour- but trust me, this is not your job." His words were not laced with malice or jealousy, not this time, and he was glad that _the voice_ had not intervened so far. He placed a hand on Harry's shoulder, confused at the sudden gush of ill-boding hit his senses. Leaving him much too quickly he looked away.

"We are all fighting for the same goal, but _you_ are the one who can finish this. Not me, not Hermione- _you._ And you need to be safe till that last piece of Horcrux is dealt with. Let's get this done and get to that blasted Chateau, shall we?"

...

It was a huge property. It almost felt like Hogwarts during Christmas holidays, only it was just the three of them and thankfully a pantry full of food that had been spelled to keep them fresh. Getting the food on the table was a different story, however. Hermione had absolutely no experience with cooking apart from getting a cup of tea or boiling water. He had seen his mum for years, but watching her cook and trying out the same all by himself were two completely different things. Harry was marginally better having had to help his Aunt for years, but his experience was based on Muggle gadgets which the Granger home lacked. All in all, they were making do with burnt toasts, much too lumpy soups and way too charred up sausages. He was the one who was complaining the most.

Ron trudged along the long carpeted passageway, the candles high up on the ceiling lighting up as he walked. How insane was it that this enormous place was her _birthday gift_. He walked towards the three doors at the far end of the corridor, each of which was an entrance to the room each one of them had taken up. Hers was next to the library- yes this place had one, obviously.

He expected the two of them to be there; that was where they spent most of their days now. At least, that was where he found Harry and Hermione every time he came back from the cottage. He rubbed the cut on his palm absentmindedly. The bleeding would stop in a while, it always did.

He should have expected these ancient enchantments to require some blood to seal the spell, he hadn't. And he hadn't known that he would have to go back to the Cottage every day at least once and offer his blood to a particular stone on the wall that might look like a blank piece in itself but was actually the gateway to the passage that led to the Chateau. The compulsory, daily ritual was a reminder of the oath he had taken and sealed with his blood and the magic that flowed through it.

He was taken aback the first time when the wall had melted away to reveal the pathway- adorned with iron pillars on either side that had flowering vines growing on them to create a canopy overhead, and the huge Victorian building at the end of it, it looked like the drawings in Ginny's old storybooks. It struck him suddenly at that moment that Granger was practically a princess.

He walked quickly.

Today they were to apparate to London to check out the old orphanage site yet again. They had done it once already- the building had long been broken down and housed a dilapidated news press now but Hermione, the one never to leave a stone unturned, had convinced them to go asking around the neighbourhood this time. It was a lame idea according to him but that was the only idea they had. Harry was still keen on visiting the school but ever since they had managed to nick a Prophet while lurking around the Ministry entrance waiting was his dad, and which had an article about the newly appointed Headmaster, the two of them had flat out refused to let him take that chance. Ron was sure that if they were anywhere else, and Harry could leave without Ron having to open the passageway for him, the Boy-Who-Lived would have surely left under the cloak.

"RON!"

Her screams broke the silence of the place and he rushed ahead, wand held firmly in his hand and heart throbbing madly in his chest. _Were they located?! How was that even possible?!_

He pushed open the heavy oak door, and right there, on the lush green carpet, lay Harry with his head on Hermione's lap. For a minute, he paused as anger and jealousy flooded his veins but then he noticed something else.

Hermione was sobbing madly and shaking Harry by the shoulders. But she need not have done that, for Harry was shaking wildly himself.

Ron approached him quickly, dropping the wand next to him as Harry turned around getting away from Hermione and lying on the floor, hands pressed on his temple.

"R-Ron?!" she asked through scared, teary eyes. He had to pull in quite a bit of self-control not to snap at her- the image of Harry on her lap burning his eyes. _It's illogical, concentrate on the problem_ , admonished the saner part of himself but the monster inside kept growling.

"H-He is having a vision." He told her. _Why was this happening again?_ He had to concentrate on Harry. But all he could feel was rage. He hadn't felt like this in days- since the time Harry had locked the locket inside a vault in his room...

"Where is the locket, Hermione?" he gruffed watching Harry's writhing form.

"In Harry's hand... n-no, he is wearing it I think. We were trying to open it." She provided shakily, watching the writing form of their friend on the floor.

"Harry was saying he was apprehensive about keeping it hidden and so far away. He said we ought to carry it all the time to be able to finish it the moment we got a chance." She added biting her lips.

"Oh, Ron! Make it stop!" she cried, pressing her palms on her lips, "Don't you suppose, H-He can see us through Harry?!" she gasped and he froze.

"I sure hope not..." he whispered, and then forced the quivering form of Harry around. The locket was indeed on him, hanging on the thick gold chain he wore around his neck. Ron pulled the heavy chain, and holding the stone cold metal firmly between his fingers, yanked it off his friend's neck.

A few minutes and Harry stilled. He closed his tired eyes and lay on the carpet in a limp heap, soaking wet.

...

Minutes later, when Ron had carried and placed the younger boy on his bed and Hermione had fetched him a goblet of water, Harry looked them looking marginally better.

"What was it?" Ron asked. The locket inside his pocket felt heavy.

"He is angry, and he killed Gregorovitch," provided Harry watching him and Hermione who sat on the other side of the bed and was gently rubbing his shoulder.

"The wandmaker?!" gasped Hermione and Harry nodded while Ron looked on. Hermione was sitting close to Harry... _very close_.

"He saw a memory, someone, a boy leaving the wandmaker's shop. Maybe he took something? At least that is what Gregorovitch said. But he-" Harry gulped looking sick.

"Took what?" he asked roughly. He was tired of the half information.

"I don't know... but he's angry. He doesn't know either."

The three of them sat silent for a while before Ron took out the locket from his pocket. He wasn't so sure but there seemed to be a faint vibration coming from it. Not to forget, a feeling of deep unease which was taking hold over him slowly but surely.

Harry extended his hand to take it away but he removed his own just in time, clasping the metal in his palms.

"No." He stated firmly.

"Ron! I need to keep it safe."

"Correction, mate. _We_ need to keep it safe." He huffed as the cold from the metal seem to drench through his skin. He was positive there was something wrong with it, actually, everything was wrong with it- it was a bloody Horcrux after all.

"Just put it back in the safe," Hermione argued. He glanced at her and looked away.

"No. Harry is right. We have to keep it with us all the time- finish it the moment we get a chance." The locket suddenly felt heavier and the chain seemed to coil around his wrist. He looked hard at his hands- both the locket and the chain were limp between his fingers.

"That's what I am saying! Give it to me!" yelled Harry. Too tired after the effect of the recent events, he coughed and heaved. Hermione handed him the goblet again, rubbing soothing circles on his back.

"I'll keep it. I'll wear it."

Two pairs of eyes snapped towards him.

"What?!" spat Harry.

"No!" exclaimed Hermione.

He ground his teeth. "You both don't realise how powerful this is. Remember what the diary did to Ginny, Harry? It tried getting **you**. This will do that again. And we can't risk it."

"Then we'll take turns wearing it." argued Hermione fiercely.

"You won't Hermione. This is a part of His soul. And honestly, we don't know how powerful it can get, what it can make you do. You are the only one who can disclose the location of this place, and _He wants you too_. It's not safe for you to wear it. And Harry's connection seems to get stronger wearing this. Another thing we can't risk. Leaves me free..."

"You are the Secret Keeper, Ron!" growled Harry.

"Exactly, mate. I am the only one who can't disclose our location even if I want to." It was simple, really; their best hope. He opened his palm and pulled the chain over.

The locket rested over his heart with a heavy thud. Instantly, invisible fingers clasped around the organ pumping blood into his veins. _The voice_ inside him laughed a dark, grim, evil laugh.

* * *

 **A/N:** A quick reply to a few reviewers which will probably be answers to questions many of you have.

First

 **chemrunner57:** I can understand your concern, but please bear with me. Events need a setup and other events that lead up to complete the picture. The story has been slow of late, and I apologise but it had to be that way. Trust me, I know where these two are going, where the whole plot is going. And Ron needs to be where he was 20 chapters ago. This story is also about his journey to self-realisation too.

 **Ron's Lover:** I WON'T leave this unfinished. There, you have my word.

 **ShilenKnight:** Please don't be so hopeful. Sorry!

 **Joy:** Your suggestion was very tempting but I can't do that because... (Can't say! Spoiler!) But yes, this is not a missing moment story, so events will be different. And yes, I will jump events whenever this plot allows me to do so.

 **Guest Reviewer:** I'll keep your threat in mind if I think of killing him. And no, I don't intent to die so young.

 **JoorayssicPark:** This is not a missing moment so expect the story from the perspective of a Crazy Ron lover. Trust me, you'll love Ron, for whatever he does.

Finally,

 **Burger King:** ONCE AGAIN is WIP. I am not uploading because

1\. A lot needs to be edited and

2\. Writing is going too slow for me to post it.

Can't keep my readers hanging for months for new chapters. Will come up after this story wraps up- by June or July (just an estimation).

Thanks to all other reviewers for your kind words –

 **thatwitch64, Rohit, Gja (** she's a lot better, thanks!), **Yoli, Crazytulip, banzi, notsing, heronlove, nirdoodle, JeanandBilius, RHr1912, sherry goel, Amy** and **WeasleyIsMyKing540.**

You guys keep me motivated to work on this story and update it sooner.

And yes, I will work on that sequel I mentioned

Thanks for all the support! Please don't forget that review!

Love.


	44. The Evil Within

**A/N:** I have a pretty lengthy author note to share with you all but I'll put it at the end of this chapter.

 **Warning:** Dark themes of sexual nature and angst. You have been warned.

 **All Characters belong to JKR, only the places/people you do not recognise belong to me.**

* * *

 **Chapter 43: The Evil Within**

They waited till Harry was fast asleep, exhausted.

Hermione had located a small potions cabinet and Ron was sure that a dose of Calming Drought had made into Harry's water goblet at some point; he wasn't exactly complaining. Quite the contrary, he wanted to get out of this room as early as he possibly could. The proposition of retreating back to his quarter alone was appearing to be a fantastic proposition at the moment.

He pulled himself off the bed and turned around to call her but stopped; a steady stream of tears was trickling down her eyes. Something inside his chest cheered at her anguished state while something feebler pulled at his heartstrings at the very same moment. The part that was stronger quickly forced the concern out of his watched her as she tenderly ran her fingers through Harry's hair and tucked him inside the covers a little better. The gesture seemed practiced and not something new or sudden- there was a sense of familiarity in that touch, in that care. A very old memory surfaced inside him as he watched- one in that old school chamber of hers, one in which she pulled _him_ to rest his head on her lap while she ran her fingers through his hair. It was obvious that he had been replaced.

"I'll be in my room," he told her in an emotionless voice; she nodded without taking her eyes off Harry. Ron spent only a moment to take in her form before walking out and closing the door shut after him. If they needed privacy, he would ensure they got it...

...

The bath was huge; it would fit in his old room quite easily. In fact, it would fit in his room twice along with Ginny's and also their kitchen and still have room to spare.

He peeled off his jacket and his jumper and threw them on the bathroom floor. The old button-down soon joined the heap along with the inner vest that had more holes in it now than it did a couple of months before. Next to go were his shoes and socks, pulled and thrown haphazardly next to his clothes. His jeans were the last and finally, devoid of all his clothing but his boxers and the locket, he stood in front of the mirror that covered one wall in its entirety.

Ron looked at his tall, pale and freckled form. He did not look malnourished, not yet at least thanks to all the meals Kreacher had fed them, but he did not look fit either. His pale skin and the freckles stood out in the bright light of the hundred candles that shone in their brackets. His lackluster hair was longer now than his Mum would have ever liked. But above all, his face looked... _Sickly? Ugly?_ He couldn't completely decide. His blue eyes, the only feature that his Mum ever said she loved, shone like dying embers between those dark circles that lined them. Either he was imagining it or even they appeared as if a layer of dust had settled over them.

 _Dusty_ , yes, that was the word. Dusty, dirty and poor.

He did not belong to this place. Maybe that is what Hermione saw herself now? That he, Ron Weasley, was a misfit in the world she belonged to, and that was why she had chosen then, hadn't everyone chosen Harry? He was the bloody _Chosen One_ , after all.

His Mum had said that Harry was as good as her own sons, and there was no denying that she cared for him just like one; did pay extra attention to him whenever he was around. Ron had always told himself that it was because how little care Harry received from his relatives. And it made him feel good too. But looking back, did _he_ ever receive that kind of love and care from her? No, she was more of a stern parent in his case. Caring yes, but a little forgetful, a little less attentive towards him.

He exhaled softly and pulling the locket off, placed it on the small dresser that held soaps and vials full of shampoos and oils. Discarding his boxers and throwing them at the pile of dirty clothes, he walked away from the huge bath at the center of the room and made his way towards the shower enclosure. Intricate knobs tapped with his wand soon poured warm water down his body, soothing his muscles but not doing much for his cold heart.

He allowed the water to wash over him as he stood resting his palms on the black stone wall. His hair got plastered to his skull and fell over his eyes but he did not care to remove them; his mind wandering off to the old train of thoughts.

Ginny... she too had chosen Harry. As if there weren't enough brothers to compete against for her affections, there was his best friend in it too. Harry had taken that away from him as well.

And now, _she_ was his.

The realisation hit him like a brick and a low cry erupted from his lips unawares. As the water flowed from the showerhead he allowed his tears to escape and join the thin streams that flowed on his body. It was only when the warming spell faded and the water turned from mildly cold to chilly that he turned the knob off. Steam escaped from his heated body in tiny spirals before they blended with the cooler air of the room and he noted that his entire body was tinged one of the many fresh and new towels that were stacked on the rack, he moved over to the mirror before tying it around his waist.

Ron pushed the fringe off his eyes with a rough hand. His eyes looked puffed and red and it only made him appear more gruesome. He watched the sickly young man who stood in the mirror as water dripped down his wet hair and torso.

 _Wasn't this what he had decided anyway?_ _Hadn't he always known that he wasn't worth her?_

She had come to him and _he_ had been the one to push her away. What was wrong if she was searching for solace in Harry's arms now? If they survived, Harry could give her a better life. And they would make the perfect couple, the power couple in fact. He would not fit in the scheme anyway, he wasn't meant to be. He pulled the locket over and suddenly, the air felt colder than a moment ago.

' _So you are okay with Hermione finding solace in Harry's arms, are you?'_ sneered the voice, louder and more malicious than before. Ron contemplated pulling it off and the voice only laughed harder.

' _What a weakling!'_ it scoffed. _'Running away from your own thoughts, Ronald Weasley?'_

"SHUT UP!" he bellowed to the empty room and tightened his grip on the thick chain.

' _Oh, yes you are!'_ it added with a cold, mocking laugh. ' _You can't even bear to hear the truth._ _No wonder she is looking for something better,"_ it hissed and his hold on the chain slackened _._

" _She is looking for a man, Weasley. She is looking for a stronger man, someone who can make her feel secure and safe... of course, your empty pockets don't give her that assurance. I bet you can't even make her feel like a real woman..."_ it continued in his ears and his vision turned red.

" _I'm sure Harry is doing that perfectly, though," i_ It said in mock contemplation. " _You are not even man enough to take a woman, Weasley. No wonder she is looking for better prospects to full-fill her urges..."_

...

She sat next to Harry as the younger boy slept. He had woken up panting only a while ago and she had pressed her hand firmly on his wrist, soothing him. Surely, the Calming Drought had lost its potency. Watching him carefully and deciding that this time, he was indeed asleep, she delicately removed the glasses from his eyes and set them aside on the table.

Hermione was scared.

She was scared of this deadly mission they had been assigned and the image of pure evil that had lurked behind Harry's emerald green eyes. She had never seen something like this before and the lack of information made her uneasy and fearful.

 _How could she help them out?_

She had read almost all the books she could lay her hands on and even the old copy Beedle the Bard, her own not the one Dumbledore had left for her, just to see if it was in any way different. But so far, she had found nothing; nothing to help finish the Horcrux, nothing to unravel the mysteries of the three strange gifts Dumbledore had left for the three of gripped Harry's shoulder lightly and allowed a muffled, helpless sob to escape. Time was running out and the dark forces were only getting stronger. She felt weaker and no matter how hard she tried keeping her morale up, her instinct kept indicating the presence of something sinister in their midst. And today she had seen a glimpse of it in Harry's eyes.

A few more silent tears rolled down her cheeks.

This place was her home, and Harry was the brother she never had. She wasn't willing to lose him. While the Weasleys all felt like family, there was something special about the relationship she shared with the scarred boy. They both had been orphaned and left without a family by the very same man. They both shared the reason to be in this fight. She did not realise it as much as she did today, Harry was almost like the only family she had. Ron was her future, Harry was a linked to her past - a reminder of who she was, of who she would always be- an orphan of war.

Maybe the Chateau did it, reminded her strongly that no matter how strong her home was, no matter how well protected by enchantments - the other side was stronger. They could still snatch away all that was hers, without warning – just like it had done before. They still had it in their power to rip her away from her home and the only person she could call a brother. And the worst part was that Harry was destined to face the Dark Lord one day or other, she could not hold him safe forever...

Dread seeped in through her skin, filling her pores and she felt an urgent need for warmth and security. So she got up, wiped off her tears, and rushed off to the only person who made her feel safe - _Ron_.

...

She entered the silent room, and for a minute panicked on finding it empty. But then the soft sound of the shower running came through the closed bathroom door and she relaxed visibly.

His bed was a mess. A small stack of fresh clothes lay in the same spot she had left them the day before. The cover was pulled away like someone had hurried away from it without bothering to set it straight. His wand and the Deluminator lay next to his pillow.

The shower still sounded softly behind the door, and after a brief moment of hesitation, she took her place at the farthest end, her back resting against the headboard. Her gown spreadout around her, the light blue blending in with the ocean blue coloured bedspread. It was both a little relief and a little uncomfortable wearing the robes she wore in her earlier life. But her mother had set her wardrobe here long before time and wearing these now almost felt soothing, familiar touches from her past.

She rubbed her arms, noticing that a slight tear had appeared on the sleeve. Hermione could not recollect how that had happened; perhaps she had bumped against something? Oh, yes, she had passed through the two bookshelves, not noticing that a tiny hook protruded from one of it. Her earlier self would have rushed back to her wing, changed the gown and thrown it off to be given off to some lesser mortal. But her present self only shook her head with a small chuckle and began tracing random patterns on the pillow with her fingers.

The door of the bath opened with a very small click.

Hermione turned just in time to watch the tall, naked and wet torso of Ron Weasley come into view and struugled with her breath. Her throat suddenly felt parched while liquid heat coursed through her veins. She lowered her eyes on instinct, colour moving up fast on her neck and cheeks, but those betraying eyes revolted and returned to lurk on his skin, watching the water drops dripping down in thin streams. She took in the faint covering of ginger hair on his fairly muscled chest upon which the dreaded locket lay, the slightly darker line of hair that ran down the centre and reached his navel and beyond. Her breath was caught in her throat for a good few seconds... Yes, he had a towel wrapped around his waist, but it sat way too low on his hips.

Ron shook his head and ran his fingers through his hair. It was obvious he had not noticed her yet as he looked around the bed for his clothes, his fingers on the knot on the towel, inches from ripping it away from him.

She cleared her throat because, first, she wasn't sure she would be able to make any other noise. Second, because it would be mortifying if he changed first and then found out she was here, watching all this while.

He turned around sharply at the noise, his eyes scrunched into slits, brows creased and lips drawn into a thin line. It took him a moment for him to locate her.

Hermione could not decide if she was more aroused or scared for she was both. She could not put a finger on it but there was something dangerous in those blue orbs, something predatory in the way they took her in. It was like a deadly poison. Her instinct told her to run but the lure to taste it was way too great.

"What are you doing here?"

His words were rough, slightly scratchy around the edges, and she licked her lips and gulped down trying to find her voice.

 _Why was she here, exactly? Oh..._

He walked forward slowly and she got up herself as if the bed was on fire.

"I-I wanted to see you," she stammered. She needed to leave right away. There was something painfully attractive in that gait, something that triggered her instinct to flee while keeping her rooted on the spot as well.

Ron stopped when he was barely a foot away. Hermione noticed she was trapped between the bed, the wall, and his tall frame. She averted her gaze from him because it made her feel those very things that Ron had asked her to hold back.

"Why are you here, Hermione?" he asked again, slowly, deliberately. She could feel his eyes taking her in and the realisation caused her to bite her lips.

"I...I should probably just leave..." she whispered without looking at him; hoping with all her might for him to move aside so that their bodies wouldn't touch if she moved.

"Your sleeve got ripped," he observed in a strange voice, and she glanced up at him in surprise while covering the gap in fabric with her other palm.

"Yes..." she murmured. He smelled of a fresh shower and it did strange things to her senses. What she could not figure out, however, was why it scared her so.

Suddenly he moved forward and his fingers were on her wrist, removing her hand away as he ran his long finger on the skin exposed by the tear in the fabric.

"How did this happen?" he asked. It was as if someone else was speaking in Ron's voice. It was cool and controlled but also deadly. If the charms in the house were not set to trigger in case of an imposter, Hermione would surely be running far away from him. She had the same idea at that moment too but held on.

"I was in the library when- when it got caught on a small hook," she offered trying best to sound casual, trying to ignore that his fingers had now moved to her shoulder.

"Were you with Harry?" There was a flicker of something she could not decipher in those orbs.

"Y-Yes..." she replied.

A small chuckle of sorts escaped him and she relaxed for a minute at the familiarity of that face before his finger made way to her lips, marking a line on her neck as it moved up.

He ran his finger over her lower lip and she watched with shaky breaths as his eyes lingered on the movement of his fingers. His other hand came up to entangle in her hair at her nape and a small pressure angled her face to him. She gasped quietly, expecting those still moist lips on hers, actually craved for them as her eyes fluttered shut. But the kiss never came.

A moment passed, the space of a few heartbeats and she opened her eyes to find his eyes on hers. He was taking in her features like memorising them or perhaps matching them with his memory, she couldn't decide. But something else lingered behind those orbs, a desire so strong that it could burn her easily, a flicker of pain so deep that it seemed to hurt her too.

She blinked in surprise and her palms moved up to rest on his chest, careful to avoid the locket and his eyes followed her hands. The next time when their eyes met, she looked away blushing crimson. There were no words necessary; his eyes screamed raw, unguarded lust. It was obvious what he wanted- he wanted to mark her, in every way possible.

She swallowed hard and closed her eyes but the next instant a soft gasp escaped her lips. His finger was moving away from her lips and scorching her skin through the fabric. It moved on the exposed part on her neck and then moved lower to the swell of her breast in a delicate and deliberate motion. It circled over her left breast in a spiral and rested on the now swollen bud of her nipple. Even with her eyes closed, she could feel him watching her, feel him watching what his finger was doing, where it rested.

Her chest heaved as the finger moved to the other side, repeating the same motion, arousing the other nipple. Her breath came out deeper; she could already feel the dampness between her legs.

Two fingers traced a line between her bosom, and lower they went in their search till they reached the heavily curtained space between her legs, and she gasped aloud this time. Ron was still silent as if he heard nothing, but the pressure of the fingers increased as they rubbed over her core, over her robes, over the soaked cloth that was her knickers.

"Open your dress." His words, or rather the command, made her open her eyes. His fingers had moved away and she whimpered at the loss.

"Open it yourself, Hermione. If I help, you might not be able to wear it again." It appeared as if he was clinging on to the last bits of his control to rip it out of her and she glanced at all the candles that flooded the room before shaky fingers made way to the hooks in front.

He let out a soft sound of impatience as she slowly opened the unending number of hooks that started at her neck and ended at little below her navel. She removed her hands away as soon as the last one was undone. Ron spared not a moment in ripping it off her shoulders and before Hermione knew, a gorgeous blue was pooled at her feet while she stood in the bright light, clad only in her pale blue lingerie.

She asked herself to relax. He had seen her before, in the dormitory, in the tool shed and also outside their tent. _He saw you in shadows, never in a room full of light..._ her mind reminded.

He picked her up easily and the flannel slippers dropped down from her feet before he lowered her down on the bed. Hermione knew not what to feel mainly because there were so many feelings bombarding her senses simultaneously. Arousal, as she had never felt before, was flowing in her very blood along with a maddening sense of shyness on being watched by Ron. She knew the last bits of her clothing would be pulled off her soon and then, Ron would see her like no man had ever seen her before, he would take her as no man had ever done before. A feeble part of her brain called out that there was something dangerous here but Ron was luring her into him like a flame. She knew she would be burnt by the closeness but she was powerless to keep away.

"So beautiful," he murmured softly and she shook because it sounded dangerous rather than tender.

"And so perfect..." he added, rubbing his calloused palm over her arms and sides. The rough skin grazed the side of the swell of her breasts and she watched him watch her. He was taking her all in, scanning every part of her.

He flipped her around suddenly and soon, the clasp of her bra came undone. With her face pressed onto his pillow, she let out a soft cry while his fingers traced down her back till they reached the elastic at her waist... Slowly, with long fingers clasping the sides, he pulled the last clothing down and off her.

As the cooler air of the room brushed her naked backside, she felt a rush of liquid gushing out of her core.

He touched her then... all of her. His calloused fingers moved over every part of her skin, from the base of her nape down her back and waist to the curve of her bum, and from the firm and soft flesh between her thighs down her calves to her feet. He turned her around when he was done, and she continued to keep her eyes shut tight; the edge of the pillow fisted tightly on either side. She had an urge to cover herself up but a greater urge to be seen.

Hermione expected kisses but none came; his fingers only repeated the process. He rubbed the buds on her nipples between two fingers and cupped each of her breasts in his large palm before moving his hands lower. In the silence of the room, his breathing sounded loud and clear; Hermione was sure he could hear the maddening beating of her heart.

He let out a growl when his hands pried her legs apart and she whimpered, biting her lips in an attempt to hold her moan in. But the moment the large palm settled over her core, her resolve broke and she not only opened her eyes but moaned out aloud, her back arching up at his unspoken command. Their eyes met and she could not take her eyes off him. He radiated passion from every pore and an underlying whisper of controlled aggression. He was suddenly once more the Ron who had kissed her against the wall at Grimmauld Place; only this one looked far more- dangerous. She gulped hard, and at that precise moment, two long fingers found their way inside her already soaking entrance.

It was a like a spell that hit her hard, the pleasure and fear collided deep inside somewhere, leaving her shivering in their wake.

Once she could open her eyes again she looked at his face. Was Ron always so handsome? He appeared to attract her to himself with some kind of powerful magic which she was unable to resist. She looked at his sweaty form, the way he sat between her spread legs and her eyes were drawn to the one article that did not belong there with them- the locket.

With all the strength she could muster, she pulled him close and captured his lips in hers. It was a demanding kiss. He almost forced entry to her mouth and she obliged because the fragrance and sensation that was intrinsical 'Ron' flooded her senses; his fingers inside her worked more furiously than before. The moment the kiss was broken, however, she pulled the chain off him and chucked it away. It was the exact moment when the second orgasm coursed through her, and she closed her eyes and shuddered wildly.

If she her body and mind had not been as aroused as it was, she would have noticed the tiny flicker of confusion in his eyes and the slowing down of pace between her legs.

When she opened her eyes again, Ron was looking at her with something strange floating in his orbs.

"May I?" he asked softly and she nodded without knowing what he was talking about. But she soon found out. Slowly, hesitantly he removed the towel.

In the hundred lights that shone around them, she finally saw Ron as he saw her. Perhaps it was the loss of the last bit of barrier, she presumed, that he glowed red in the face and ears. And yes, he was hard.

He met her eyes seeking permission and she managed a small, shy, encouraging smile extending her hand to touch him. But before she could, he caught her wrist in his, and looking deeply into her eyes with more love than she could take, he placed a kiss on her palm.

The next few things happened so fast that before she knew, he had pressed her palm over her core and placed his hand over hers. He was both enticingly close and frustratingly away. She wanted his hand on her skin but couldn't deny that it was strangely erotic to be touching herself with his hand guiding her. As she began letting out small sounds of pleasure, Ron pressed her legs together and managed to squeeze his hard member in the gap between her thighs. It would have been very uncomfortable if he moved fast, and was not totally pleasurable but he bent lower capturing her lips in his own in a slow kiss that matched with the slow rhythm of her body. Their sexes were close but separated by their own hands as he moved slowly, carefully. He made her touch herself and after a while, they both came at the same moment when her free hand moved into his hair and her teeth bit his lip...

...

Ron looked at the sleeping girl under the covers. He wanted to touch her but refrained. _Hadn't he done enough, already?_

He felt over his chest where the locket had been. Even without it, his heart felt heavy.

 _What had he done?_ _He had given into the mistrust that the locket had put in his heart... he had utilised her attraction for him and her trust in him to pacify his ego, to check on her, to see if she had indeed been sleeping with Harry... if their lovemaking had left any marks on her._

 _And what had he found out?_

 _That he was unworthy of her trust and love._ _If she had not pulled away, the locket he would have perhaps taken her body, tainting his soul forever._

He knew the locket was evil; what he hadn't realised was how powerful it was- how it amplified his anger and mistrust, how easily it fuelled his jealousy, but more than that, how easy it made for him to use all those for his own benefit, how easy it made for him to channel his anger to lure his prey.

He lifted himself up and pulled away the covers off Hermione. She was fully dressed but he still felt guilty touching her. But he had to do what he had to do- keep her away from the locket, and himself. He magicked the door open before lifting her up in his arms and walked out, forcing the tears in his eyes not to escape.

Once in her room, he lay her down delicately and pulled the covers up. Gently he tucked a curl away from her face and after a moment's hesitation pressed his lips tenderly to her forehead.

"I'm sorry..." he muttered with a heavy heart before turning away and leaving.

Neither Harry nor Hermione would ever know, how that one night, behind the locked and charmed door of Ron Weasley's room, the young man they knew, would smash every mirror with a heavy gold locket, how he would scream in agony, not because of the sharp glass pieces that pierced his skin but the flames that burnt his soul from within. And no one would hear him howl in pain till the night died.

It wasn't a question of her consent, but his intent...

* * *

 _ **A/N:**_ Can't tell you guys, how terrified I am about putting this chapter up. I always knew this had to be in the story hence a million warnings. Were you prepared for this? I don't know.

 _ **Now for a bit of clarification:**_

I've always felt that the Locket was far more evil than it was presented to be. Maybe because the series had originally started as a story book for kids JKR had refrained from describing it completely? But it was a part of Voldemort's soul. I doubt his evil had any sense of limit or morality for that matter. I don't think he had any feelings of lust what-so-ever, but he was always the one to manipulate using his prey's weak points. But then, what can we expect from a soul who tortured kids before he was eleven, and murdered his family when he was sixteen?

Why they still wear the locket? I guess it's the charm of the Evil. Why else would a wizard like Dumbledore wear that ring otherwise? And yes I think each of the Horcruxes targeted the person who was destined to destroy it. I have a proper, thought-out theory for it. You can read my story – **Daddy's Girl** or read my Tumblr ( **Azaleablueme** ) post for the whole of it. (It's much too long to fit in an author note section.) .

Please let me know what you think of this chapter.

Thanks to all of you for sticking around!

Some more questions about the protection spells on the Chateau will be clarified in the next chapter. I see most of you have been horrified by all that Ron has taken upon himself, and I know it will have got only worse now after this.

Another question that most of you have is if Ron will leave. I can't tell you that, not yet. But most of the things will not be like in canon. I will only keep the parts that I can't chuck off.

Can't help but say that the dark times have only begun...

Thanks to each one of you who read this and especially those who leave me a line(Nichole O: Love you girl xoxox). I hope I won't lose my readers after this.

Another shout-out to two people who definitely need to update their stories because I love their work and can't wait! : **notsing** and **JeanandBilius:** please, please please update and longer chapters please!


	45. Progression

**A/N:** Am back after a two-week long break! My two year old managed to wreck my laptop screen bringing all my writing to a halt.

Before I start the chapter, though, I need to mention two reviews both of which were left by guest reviewers.

The first one is- _"Okay, so Ron was just checking Hermoine for bruises/ marks and such from harry because of his suspicions until she took the locket_ off _him and he_ realised _what he was doing? Ron_ noo _my poor baby is so insecure and you're so right that locket is pure evil."_ Yes, that is absolutely spot on.

Yes, that is absolutely spot on.

The second one - _"What a relief... that the chapter is finally over without_ ron _doing anything stupid. The fact that how it would have destroyed him completely is one, but_ hermione _definitely deserves a commitment before they make love, (despite the fact that she would have given herself to him willingly). Please update soon."_

Again, something I have been wondering when someone would notice that Ron has not made any kind of a commitment or even acknowledged Hermione's feelings for him verbally. So, I was way too excited to see this review. Yes, she surely deserves that before things go further - it's kind of a fantastic coincidence that the review came just before this chapter. :)

And before I forget once again, I have to tell you all that the song that I mostly listen to while writing Ron/Hermione scenes for this story is **A Thousand Years by Christina Perri.**

 **All Characters still belong to JKR.**

* * *

 **Chapter 44: Progression**

She was sure she would find him once again at the top of the Bell Tower, although, technically speaking, the tower neither held a bell nor would do so anymore. It was just the one that stood higher than all the rest, giving an undisrupted view of the entire moor the Chateau stood on.

Walking up the spiral staircase that whirled its way towards the top, Hermione wondered why her father had named it so. Perhaps he had plans of a small settlement of helpers around the Chateau like their other properties, and the bell was to be used to summon them to work? With a heavy heart, she realised that she would never get to know.

Of late, Ron had taken a particular liking to this place. More often than not, he was found here, sitting alone and watching the forest towards the far east that marked the boundary of their property. Another common sight was him flicking the Deluminator on and off. Hermione was of the opinion that it had become a habit for him now, albeit a little annoying one. It was particularly disturbing when he did that while she was in the library busy searching answers.

The unease that irked her when she lacked solutions to every single problem life threw her way, plagued her all the time now. And to be honest, she was more than a tad bit miffed that her enormous collection did not hold the answer to their present problem.

 _What could that symbol mean?!_

Her quick moving feet slowed without conscious thought as she once again began to mentally sort out all the books that she had yet to look into for that odd looking eye. She was almost positive it was not a Rune. Hadn't she practically searched through all the symbols more than five times now? But Harry's declaration that he had seen the symbol on Luna's father bothered her as did his insistence that they go and meet this Xenophilous Lovegood. She could not really locate this man from memory but it was simply hard for her to accept the fact that the editor of Quibbler knew something her books did not. Not that she voiced the thought aloud to the boys; they were strangely protective about Luna Lovegood.

So she kept holding back their plans of giving him a visit and poured herself headfirst into her research. It _had_ to mean something. Dumbledore had personally drawn it on the book- it wasn't present in her own old copy.

As she reached towards the top, the gust of air got colder. It was almost the end of November and their stockpile of both wood and food was fast depreciating. The boys made frequent trips to the forest to collect as much firewood as they could but the rooms were way too large and the stone walls almost swallowed the heat in minutes. Even the warming charms were failing to hold out the cold that was getting stronger by the day.

Finally, at the very top of the tower, she pushed the door ajar and looked out - the strong air blowing her hair off her face and chilling her skin instantly.

Sure enough, there he was, sitting alone at the lone bench he had conjured and staring blankly at the gathering masses of grey clouds.

"Ron?" she called aloud to be heard over the wind, her teeth chattering. Ron had an abnormally stronger resistance to cold; she would surely have frozen out here.

He turned around at her voice, his face even paler than normal making the dark circles around his eyes all the more prominent.

She cast a shield charm and the invisible barrier blocked the wind out, suddenly plunging the small space into deafening silence in the absence of all the howling the gale was causing so far. A strong warming spell came next.

"Are you trying to freeze yourself to death?" she admonished branding her wand at him and huffing before collapsing down next to him.

"No, wouldn't that be a waste? The poor little Death Eaters will be left heartbroken." he chuckled dryly while she frowned.

She cast a warming charm on him and watched those pale cheeks flood with colour while he continued to look away. Hermione had not failed to notice that Ron was not the Ron from before. Sure, she had not really seen much of the fun-loving, jovial guy Harry mentioned he used to be, but even she knew him enough to know that there was something very different about him.

"Ron?" she called softly while placing a hand gently on his shoulder; he jerked and scooted away as if her touch burned. Hurt and anger in equal measure bubbled inside her directing her feet to walk off right away. And she would have done the same if not for his voice.

"I-I'm sorry... I didn't mean it that way, Hermione," he muttered softly, and despite looking away she could feel his eyes on her face, _finally._

"What is troubling you, Ron?" she asked wheeling around to face him, but by then, he had turned away again. There was a stiffening of the jaw and a laboured intake of breath, and she was almost hoping for that answer that hung at the tip of those lips before they parted and he let out a gentle whisper.

"Nothing."

Hermione let out a frustrated sigh, not bothering to hide her annoyance. _Why couldn't he trust her?_

"Ron, we are all equally in this mess. You can't just keep pushing us away!" she cried exasperatedly. It had been days, weeks really, of trying to make him speak up. But it appeared that Ron was busy building up an unbreachable wall around himself. It angered and saddened her in equal measure; she had really thought things would be different between them after that night- it had, but for the worse.

"I am not pushing you both away." he replied, quite noticeably contrite.

She let out a mirthless chuckle, choosing to stay quiet and he did the same.

"I have been wondering," he stated after a while and continued when she made a soft sound letting him know she was listening.

"Does the protection around the Chateau really prohibit Harry from leaving without me opening the doorway?"

It was her turn to look guilty.

"No," she replied meekly.

"Thought so," he said nodding.

"So?"

"So, so what?" she asked back, cursing her heart for melting at the sight of those blue orbs that were gazing at her. He looked tired, but the exhaustion appeared to be much more than something only physical.

"Why did you lie to him?" he asked; it did not appear as if he was angry, just curious.

"I didn't lie to him, not exactly..." she stammered as her cheeks coloured.

"Just did not tell him the whole truth," He chuckled and Hermione realised how much she had missed that sound.

"I was worried about him," she explained rubbing her cold fingers together not only to generate some warmth into them but also to hold back herself from touching him.

"I wasn't sure he would not walk away during one of his depression spells, you know? I know he keeps blaming himself for all these deaths and worries that he is putting the two of us in grave danger by his presence."

"Yeah, he does that, the barmy little git," he laughed causing warmth to spread all over her. It was strained and caused his skin to crinkle around his tired eyes but it was still a laugh. She smiled too; her cheek muscles aching slightly in the almost forgotten action.

"How does this work, Hermione?" he asked pulling her out of the blissful reverie. "Just assume that something happens to m-, I mean the guard, or say, he leaves; what happens to the enchantments?"

She took a shuddering breath, forcing the horrifying images away, images that lingered in her nightmares anyway - Ron captured and bleeding with a hoard of hooded Death Eaters surrounding him, laughing maniacally and one moving forward and raising his wand, pointing it at the inert, blood-soaked body lying ahead.

"Hermione?" he called again, looking curiously at her, obviously ignorant of her deepest fears.

"The Chateau seals itself." she exhaled, rubbing her palms more furiously. "The exit gets locked. And only the owner is able to move out, obviously to search and assign another guard," she replied in a trembling voice.

"Hm," he muttered almost to himself.

And then she did it. Throwing all her doubts away, she turned around and crashed awkwardly into his chest, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling herself as close to his body as she possibly could. As her beating heart crashed next to his, Hermione inhaled deeply, taking in the fragrance she had missed sorely all this time.

Not once after that night had he approached her or tried to touch her- not even for a kiss. She had been able to partly push aside her doubts because they had been busy with the strange symbol she had found, and also because he seemed equally aloof from Harry, which told her that it had (hopefully) nothing to do with his stupid notions of not being good enough for her. She knew he was troubled, worried, frustrated and tired; they all were. And perhaps, that one night of uncontrolled passion bothered him so because he was the one who had asked her to refrain in the first place? But she wanted to tell him that it was okay- she had known well enough what she was getting into, she had wanted it as much as him if not more... So, she had sought out each and every possible instance to talk to him, which, unfortunately, had yielded no results so far.

Hermione had to tell herself over and over again that it was in the best interest of everyone that they keep the happenings of the night to themselves and be just their old selves in front of Harry.

Not that she didn't miss Ron every night. Not like she did not miss the passion or the peace that had come as an aftermath. She hadn't slept as peacefully and deeply as she had done that night. It was excruciating painful to keep to her room nowadays when she knew he was just across the hall, barely a few steps away... And it was not all about the sex either. It was almost like he had expressed everything she wanted to hear in actions, especially the last kiss... And she wanted those moments again.

Curled in the arms of the man she loved beyond all, she thought back to the night he had made her a woman - well, _almost._

It had been strange and a little empty to wake up in her bed instead of his the next morning, but it had warmed her heart knowing that he must have carried her back and tucked her in. And with a sigh, she had realised that it was the right thing to do. It would have been mortifying if Harry had found out.

She wanted to ask why he had stopped that night, though, why he had not gone all the way. And even now, pressed onto his chest, hidden from his view, her cheeks coloured sharply at the realisation of what she was thinking.

It was only minutes later that she realised that Ron had made no effort to hug her back. He was stiff as a board, his hands limp at his sides.

She let go of him haltingly, first pushing herself back slightly to take in his face, expecting with a sickening feeling in her stomach, a growl or a disdain in his eyes. What she saw, however, was an undiluted pain.

"I am not the guy you think I am, Hermione," he said in a heart-breakingly heavy voice and she groaned aloud pushing him away. _Not again!_

 _"DO YOU REALLY HAVE TO DO THIS, RON? EVERY. SINGLE. TIME?!"_ she cried, leaving the bench and moving away and turning around to face the snowy white grounds, hating the tears of anger that hazed her vision.

Scraping of wood on the floor told her he had left the bench too. She half expected his arms on her shoulder, she hoped for words that told her he was not going to spoil the memories and break her heart, _not again_. She could hear his footsteps coming closer and held her breath, hoping against hope. But he stopped a little distance away; no arms came up to touch her. She let out a whimper while fury coursed her veins.

"Hermione, y-you don't understand..."

"Then explain, Ronald!" she spat back crunching her teeth in frustration, without bothering to turn around. If he intended to hurt her again, at least she would not give him the pleasure of seeing her broken self.

"I can't... I should but..." she heard a haggard exhale of breath and he stopped midsentence, infuriating her all the more.

"Very well, I'll just leave then," she responded coldly and stomped her way to the door.

"'Mione,"

She stopped because _how could she not when he called her that?_

"I- You must know, I..."

She turned around folding her arms over her chest and glared at him. He looked broken and her stance softened despite her anger. A huge part of her heart wanted to go and hug him again but she refrained because Ronald Weasley had more to say- _surely he hadn't broken her heart enough for his liking._

It appeared as if Ron was struggling with words and he finally collapsed on the bench again.

"I have something to confess, Hermione... I've been trying but haven't been able to gather enough courage to do it," he said hunched low and looking at his shoes, and Hermione could almost feel her heart throbbing madly in her chest.

"I will do it eventually because you gotta know... You might hate me and," he ran his long fingers through the long fringe, "heck, you _will_ hate me, I know and I'll never get the chance to tell you that-" he looked up to meet her eyes and her hands dropped to her sides of their own accord at the sight. Perhaps even her heart stopped beating for a while.

"- I never stopped loving you, Hermione..." he said and she froze.

"I was angry for a while but even when I hated you, I was still madly in love with you, It's kind of barmy but..I always will, you know?" She stood stunned, unable to move as he got up and walked closer. It appeared as if he was struggling to touch her but then he shoved his hands deep into his pockets and looked away so she could not see those eyes anymore as he spoke. She knew she was breathing through her mouth watching him as he leant against the wall and released a long sigh.

"I know everything will end when I finally find the guts to confess, and I am not telling this as an excuse or to make you forgive me when you know the truth. I swear 'am not! I am only telling this now because once you know the truth, you'll probably hate me - just as much as I hate myself, perhaps more and I'll never get another chance to tell you how much you mean to me."

He waited for a few minutes as she tried unsuccessfully to wrap her head around all that he had just said.

He turned towards her finally and she found his eyes lingering over hers and stopping for a moment longer on her lips. A small, strained and sad smile broke on his face and he shook his head a little.

"I do it all wrong, don't I?" he chuckled and she continued to watch him, stunned.

He pulled out his right hand and brought it close to her cheeks but at the very last minute, pulled it back.

"Even when you hate me and will not wish to see my face, I will still love you, 'Mione. But please remember, I'm not saying all this just to placate you and make you forgive me."

They looked at each other for a long while and Hermione fought to get her jumbled thoughts straight. A part of her heart recovered from the surprise (shock?) and yelped in joy although she could still not believe he had actually spoken those words- words she had been waiting for months to hear. But underlying everything, there was this sinister foreboding as his words echoed in her ears.

 _I am only telling this now because once you know the truth, you'll probably hate me - just as much as I hate myself, and I'll never get another chance to tell you how much you mean to me._

She wanted to ask what truth he was talking about but held back. Whatever it was, for once, she wasn't sure she wanted to know.

"Let's go," he called after a while and she followed wordlessly.

 _..._

 _Locked up in a room, inside a cupboard and protected by heavy enchantments, a tiny piece of black heart thudded in a rhythmic symphony. To all, it was merely a locket, albeit a cold, heavy one at that, but what the fools did not know or appreciate to the full extent, was that the piece of soul inside belonged to the greatest wizard of all times encased within an article belonging to the great Salazar Slytherin himself._

 _And how were those fools supposed to know? No one had delved so far into the realms of magic as he, Lord Voldemort had. There was little known about the Horcruxes, for most lesser wizards were afraid to make one. But he had; not just one but many. And no matter how much the old fool Albus Dumbledore had told the Boy, no one, not even Dumbledore himself knew everything. He did not know that a Horcrux was not an inert case for a soul, it was very much a living thing. Unable to perform physicals tasks, yes, but perfectly capable of saving itself. Or perhaps it was because, he, Lord Voldemort was the greatest wizard the world would ever see, that even a fragment of that great soul was capable of sensing the one who could be a possible threat. And it was also capable of harming, and if necessary, killing this so-called threat to survive._

 _And that was where the ginger haired boy came in._

 _It was surprisingly not Harry Potter- the proclaimed Chosen one, or the Granger girl who had turned to be a disgrace to her own kind, but the son of a filthy blood traitor who posed a threat. Yes, inside that freckled chest lay the heart that held the strength to destroy this piece of Lord Voldemort himself._

 _But only if he won this fight against Lord Voldemort first._

 _Ron Weasley was an easy target. A heart full of insecurities and self-doubt and a cauldron full of temper bubbling just below the surface. The perfect mix to act as a puppet; the best arsenals for mental torture. The doubts he carried about his worth in the eyes of his family was easy to make worse; the lust he carried for the girl(there was no such thing as 'love' as the foolish liked to believe) was easy as a charm to intensify; the tiny seed of jealousy that lingered for his best friend's achievement was a child's play to stroke till it consumed him completely._

 _But the best part was that noble heart, guilt and the sense of intense loyalty and chivalry. It made the game so much more enjoyable._

 _Yes, the boy had sensed him and kept him locked up after that one night. Pity the girl had thrown the locket off; a little more time and Ronald Weasley's soul could have been damaged forever. He had refrained from wearing the locket after that incident, at least partly aware of its strength intensifying upon physical contact. But it was still in his room. And as long as Ron Weasley was in a close vicinity, the game went on._

 _Weasley's senses had caught on but all was not lost yet. The hapless boy blamed himself and it was easy to plant images in his head and make him a monster in his own eyes._

 _It went on every night and every minute that he was in this room. The stupid boy had begun to loathe himself for things he had been manipulated to do- such were the side-effects of having a foolish, noble heart._

 _How much longer till he fled or went insane?_

 _Not long, not very long..._

...

 _A couple of weeks later_

Harry dropped a load of wood into the grate and lit them up with his wand. The warmth of the crackling fire spread much-needed heat into his limbs. They were running short of firewood again.

"Ron?" he called loudly. The library was huge and a maze of towering shelves. It was highly likely that both Ron and Hermione might be somewhere sorting books and unaware of his arrival.

"Ron!" he called again, louder this time but the silence of the room remained as it was, unbroken and heavy. Wondering about the whereabouts of his friends who were supposed to be here chalking out details of their planned trip to Godric's Hollow, he paced around the room once more, calling out for them at every turn. Finally, realising that he was alone, he walked towards the door to call them back; there was simply no point wasting precious heat.

As he made his way towards Hermione's room he paused opposite to the large oak door, a strange beckoning of sorts pulling him towards it.

He pushed the large door open and entered.

Ron's room was as messy as his. Unmade bed and clothes on the dresser were familiar sights but what pulled him was the drawer on a small oak wood table that sat next to the bed. Drawn as if by some invisible force, he knelt down next to it and pulled the handle. It did not budge.

Harry felt the sense of urgency increasing inside him. He pulled out his wand and slowly but steadily undid all the wards. Feeling extremely exhilarated for some unknown reason, he pulled open the drawer. The Locket lay peacefully inside it.

He held it by the chain and pulled it out.

...

Their relationship was, in one word, uncomfortable. Sure they pretended to be normal in front of Harry but Ron could see it for himself. The worst part was that there was nothing he could do about it.

He knew Hermione wanted answers, she was Hermione Granger after all, but after his proclamation, she was also apprehensive. The end result was that when they were not discussing their plans or if Harry wasn't around, she was a fidgety self. He knew she had no clue what to make of his confession of love and he took no initiative to approach her or explain after that day. Ron often wondered if their discomfort was obvious or if Harry noticed; he seriously hoped not.

The guilt burnt his insides and now it was almost like a constant pain that simmered under the surface, getting worse every time she looked at him. He felt ashamed when she asked if he was okay, every time they sat for their meals and she noticed if he was eating or not. He did not deserve it. He did not deserve her, or her love - not even her sympathy or forgiveness. He deserved nothing.

He tried to build up his failing courage and admit what he had done- admit everything from his doubts to his jealousy and the creepy, ugly way in which he had checked on her. But he could not pull in the strength. It was not because she would hate him for it- he had made peace with that eventuality, it was everything he deserved. But he worried that the truth would destroy her self-esteem. After all, he had almost soiled her body and her love along with his soul. Every night his brain churned out images of those moments. Ever single night he saw the whole act from a distance. He saw the evil lurking in the eyes of the man who touched the petite girl on the bed, and he saw how he touched her, used her and disgraced her. Every night, he lived the horrors of that night again and again.

And she would do the same when he told her. He could not tell her, not yet- not till they won the fight. Then, when she would be back in the safety of his family again, he would tell her and leave. They would take care of her, Harry would - Fred would, he knew for sure.

"Harry should be back," she said softly and he turned at her, almost surprised by her presence. Picking up the plate of baked potatoes, their only ration for the night, he walked ahead as she followed.

...

They found the fire burning merrily in the grate but the dark haired boy was nowhere around. Placing the plate on the table near the fireplace he turned towards her.

"Must be in his room, I'll get him," he said.

"I'll bring our notes here," she replied with a nod.

.

Ron pushed open the door to his room, the magicked candles were alit notifying that someone was already present in the room.

"Harry?" he called in confusion.

"Ron," came the controlled reply behind him and he turned around. His best mate was sitting in the high back chair near the empty grate.

"What you doing here, mate? We were in the library waiting for you," he said walking towards him.

"Really?" asked the other man sarcastically and Ron stopped mid stride.

"What's wrong, mate?" he called and then he saw. The locket was dangling from the chain that was wrapped around Harry's fist.

"You tell me. Weren't you suppose to keep this safe and with you all the time?" he asked looking towards the gold object as if it was the most beautiful thing on the planet. It looked sickening.

Ron strode forward, eager to pull the blasted object off Harry's hand but the moment he reached for it Harry swung his arm away.

"I am keeping it safe," said Ron, eying Harry carefully.

"With simple spells which anyone can break? How intelligent."

Ron fisted his palm, telling himself over and over that it was the locket speaking and not Harry but his own frustration and temper were getting difficult to control.

"Give it to me, Harry. That bleeding thing plays fucking games with the mind," he said inching closer, debating internally whether to snatch it off forcefully.

"Is that your excuse for cribbing about everything?" barked Harry and Ron paused to look at his best mate.

"Oh, don't look at me like that!" hissed the younger boy. "What are you doing apart from mopping around all the time while Hermione and I are slogging our arses off trying to find answers, Ron? Nothing, _just nothing_ ," he added. "All you are trying to do is get into Hermione's knickers. Get a fucking grip, we are in a Hunt, for fuck sake."

"Give it back, Harry," he called again, barely managing to control his temper.

"No, you have done enough. I'll take care of it now,"

"No, you won't," he said and snatched the chain from the younger man's hands, feeling vindicated for a minute before a punch landed into his gut and he yelped in pain. The locket sprang out of his hand and slid on the floor and under the bed.

He straightened himself with difficulty to find Harry storming away.

...

It had been a couple of months since that incident.

Their friendship had come back to almost normal, albeit a little strained. Harry had apologised soon after and agreed that the Locket was much more evil than they had previously assumed it to be. He had told Ron how it made his deepest thoughts all the more worse and that he hadn't meant those words at all. He told Ron that Ron was the backbone of the trio, their strength and the two had hugged and patted each other on the back to declare all was well. But Ron continued to carry the Locket in his pocket rather than keep it locked up after that Horcrux-driven outburst from Harry. No matter how much he wanted to believe otherwise, something had broken inside him that night when he had heard it in his best mate's voice that he truly was the worthless one.

However, things looked slightly different now after both of their little trips took them almost to the edge of their graves. The memories of coming almost face to face with Voldemort at Godric's Hollow still made the hairs on his arms stand on edge. Had it not been for Hermione's quick thinking they would be all dead. She had saved them at Xenophilius' too. Neither of the trips yielded many results, only leaving behind more questions about their Hunt and Dumbledore and one scary reveal- Lord Voldemort was looking for the first Hallow, the Elder Wand.

The theory of the Hallows made Hermione angry and even more crazed about her research than she already was, but behind all that, he knew, she was scared. He was too. Harry's broken wand did not help the situation in the least. At least, she had found out that Godric Gryffindor's sword being Goblin made and having imbibed the Basilisk venom was capable of destroying the Horcruxes. Harry was now formulating plans to break into Hogwarts but Hermione was vehemently holding him off. Ron knew they would give in to Harry's call eventually. And to be honest, he quite preferred to die while trying to retrieve the sword than hold on to the Locket for all eternity. One would have thought months of the same torture would have made him immune, but quite the contrary he could feel himself disintegrating slowly. He was barely holding on and only for two things. The first one was for Harry to finish this blasted thing and the owner of this locket, and second- seeing his friends to safety on the other side of the war. He wasn't very hopeful that anything would heal his scars, _ever_.

He leant over the railing on the small balcony that jutted out of Harry's room and bringing out the Deluminator from his pocket, began flicking it again. He could hear the two people in the background who were, once again discussing the Peverell brothers and the possibility of the Hallows. Hermione looked frantic sitting amidst the scattered books. She had claimed over and over again that the existence of the Hallows was a myth, citing that nothing she had ever read so far proved or hinted at their existence. He turned away as Harry reminded her once more of the symbol Dumbledore had drawn in his own book, the symbol of the Hallows that was also present in the copy of the letter he had written to Grindlewald. Ron chuckled softly to himself realising that Hermione quite possibly cursed herself for picking up that book from Bathilda's shelf every single time.

The snow had begun to melt and the weather was changing. He looked at the forest again and felt in his pocket for the blasted Locket.

 _When would he ever be free from this curse?_

Something deep in his gut told him that it was almost time- but for some strange reason that thought scared him as much as relieved him.

* * *

The tall, hooded visitor was restless.

"I don't have all day!" spat the figure next to him while Keeper of the Records, Thomas Might's shaking fingers went through the list in the parchments in front of him, a bunch of other spread all over the desk.

"Please, I'm checking, my Lord," he replied fearfully, squinting in the dim light of the candle in the musty old room, deep in the heart of the Ministry.

"The Dark Lord does not like to be kept waiting," the cloaked man reminded him. "Do you wish me to tell him that you could not find out one simple information?" he asked in a slow drawl.

He gulped and fingered the list faster but with more attention.

"Here it is, my Lord!" he cried in relief finally.

"Madame Isabella Chastain!" he noted the number next to the name and hurrying over to the next room, sorted through the piles and piles of scrolls to pull out an old dusty one. Returning as soon as he could manage, he handed the scroll over to the visitor to see, finally breathing in relief.

It was snapped out of his hands with impatient urgency.

The hook-nosed man read through the scroll with a blank expression and finally rolling it back, stuffed it inside his cloak.

"You have done well. The Dark Lord will be happy," he said in a soft, silky but deadly voice and Thomas felt his heart thudding again. He fumbled for his wand which was lost somewhere below the parchments and scrolls as black dead eyes looked into his own.

"Your reward," said the visitor and a couple of Galleons were dropped on his palm and he eased for a while, looking up to thank the cloaked man.

But his smile died on his face; a wand was pointed at his temple.

"Obliviate." came a small whisper before all went blank.

* * *

 ** _A/N:_ ** This was a difficult chapter to write considering the various, different scenarios it encompasses. This was always going to be a complex chapter to write and sequence, needless to say, I'm looking forward to your reviews.

The next one is the first of the four(five, perhaps?) most crucial chapters of this story.

Thanks to all of you for sticking with this story for so long and keeping me motivated. I'll reply to all your reviews for the previous chapter in this space in some hours because my fingers desperately need some rest.


	46. The Horcrux's Revenge- Part 1

A/N: This chapter comes almost a week later than I intended it to thanks to a severe bout of flu that kept me too drugged to get any constructive work done.

I find many of you wondering what this 'truth' Ron is talking about, but honestly, it's something you all know already. The chapters get **darker** , please be braised. One scene in this chapter can be disturbing and hence, quite consciously, I am not going to get very graphic or descriptive.

This story has received 700+ reviews, been added as to the favourite list by 100+ readers and followed by 200+ of you so far, a feat I had never imagined I would achieve. You make me very happy and humbled and a tad bit scared as well. I hope this story does justice to the fabulous reviews you have sent my way.

This chapter is coming in two parts.

 **All Characters are the sole property of JKR.**

* * *

 _Lord Voldemort's gift for spreading discord and enmity is very great. We can fight it only by showing an equally strong bond of friendship and trust.- Albus Dumbledore (GoF)_

 **Chapter 46: The Horcrux's Revenge- Part 1**

It was past midnight.

Two young men stood at the small balcony staring unseen at the vast open grounds and the dense forest that followed. The clear, moonless sky glittered with a thousand stars shrouding them in deceitful serenity.

The taller of the two turned towards the room glancing over the sleeping form of a curly haired witch buried deep inside the covers of a bed that was littered with parchments, scrolls and books. A smile died on his lips even before it was fully formed.

"How long are we going to wait?" asked his companion and Ron turned around, releasing a small gasp of air that smoked in front of his face before blending in with the cold surrounding.

"Till she finds answers, I suppose," he replied.

"She had looked over those books a hundred times already," complained the bespectacled man in a gruff.

"I know," he responded putting his hand deep in his pocket to feel the heavy locket inside.

"It's March, Ron. Eight bloody months and what have we done? Found one Horcrux, and that's about it!" he fumed louder than before. "We need to break into Hogwarts if that's the last thing we do." He added.

Ron chuckled earning a stern gaze from his friend which he disregarded. "That can't be the last thing we do, mate." He provided.

"Thanks for getting things in perspective, Ron. How very intelligent of you." Harry retorted without a hint of malice.

"I try." He replied back.

"I am getting tired." Said the younger man a while later. "There are only questions and more questions but no answers."

Ron had no reply. It was something he thought too. A part of him blamed Harry for not having asked Dumbledore more when he had the chance. It was his own foolish, pigheadedness that they were left groping for solutions when Harry could have easily known more about the plan while the Headmaster was alive. He gripped the locket harder in a futile attempt at choking the soul that lay inside. He could feel the tension build inside him, the fury that was getting stronger along with the resentment he felt towards his best mate. And he knew the locket did it. All of it. It made him question their friendship and Harry's intentions and ability to lead just like it made him mistrustful about Hermione and her feelings.

Gripping the infernal object tightly in his fist he mentally repeated the Voice to stop snickering. Just like always, it did not stop but laughed louder. It had the habit of rearing its ugly head whenever he was having a warm moment with either of them. And that, he knew, was no coincidence.

He knew he would have to move away or he would snap like he did around his friends when he could not help it. But mostly, he stormed away to shut himself in his room till the spell of rage died- silencing the room and breaking all things breakable in his vicinity. He knew Harry and Hermione were suspicious and they asked him a hundred questions which angered him all the more. He had almost got into a fight with Harry once and glared so hard at Hermione on another that she had taken a few shocked back-steps to get away from him. Guilt had swept over him but the rage that the Horcrux fuelled in his veins was stronger, and so, instead of staying back and apologising as he ought to have done, he had stormed away. The blasted object had not given him another chance to explain and Harry and Hermione seemed to have mutually decided to let him be during these phases.

He felt contaminated like he was carrying a sickly disease.

"Ron!" Harry's urgent voice broke through his inner musing and he turned at his best mate to find him staring intently at something in the distance.

"Look at that!" pointed the younger man and he followed his gaze.

It was hazy at first but then he saw it- a light, white and wispy, floating between the trees.

"Is that a –"

"Patronus? Perhaps," replied Harry not taking his eyes off.

Ron pulled out his wand; the locket seemed to vibrate inside his pocket but he paid no attention. The Voice was, for once, silent.

"Should we check it out?" he suggested as the form got clearer before disappearing into the trees again. Was it a goat? A doe? He couldn't tell.

His thoughts were once again cut short as Harry practically raced away from him and began fumbling on the bed. Finally, extricating Hermione's wand from under the pile of books he rushed towards the door.

"I'll go and check it out," He gushed and Ron could see the familiar rush of adrenalin in his features. Finally, there was something to do.

"I'll go with you," He replied striding quickly towards the door himself.

"What about Hermione?" asked Harry and Ron turned to glance over her once.

"She'll be safe here," he replied.

...

Ron stopped only once they had crossed the barrier to the Chateau into the cottage.

"Harry, wait!" he called, pulling the younger man with a firm hold on his wrist.

"What if it's a trap? No one is supposed to know of this place." He reasoned. He would never be able to forgive himself if he let anything happen to Harry; especially not now when so much depended on him.

"Trust me, Ron, I feel this is safe."

"No one we know has a doe or goat as a Patronus. How can you be so sure?" he countered.

"I dunno, I just know. It looks so familiar," replied Harry, "We've got to see this, you know we do."

Ron took a moment to look at the eager form of his friend. There was a battle raging inside him. One part was strongly pulling him to that magic, another was holding him back just as equally.

"Let's go," he said gripping his wand tighter and pulled the door to the cottage open.

...

It was stupid to be out in the open and in full view of anyone or anything that might be lurking in the shadows trying to do them in. And it was quite a relief when they crossed the open moor and stepped into the forest. If anyone meant to harm them, they would have had plenty of time already.

Harry was looking around frantically for that source of light while Ron was way too busy checking around for any sudden intruders.

"There!" called his friend suddenly and sped through the low hanging branches and protruding roots. Ron followed soon after, concentrating on Harry's back while still looking out for sudden attacks. They jumped and stumbled over the roots, slipped on the slippery ground and got scratched all over by the branches and twigs but on and on they went.

It went on for a long time, minutes if not hours before the doe (yes, it was a doe and not a goat- almost familiar to Harry's Patronus but softer), came to a stop and disappeared completely.

In the sudden darkness that followed the extinguishing of their only source of light, both wands lit up simultaneously.

He heard the sharp gasp before he saw it.

The light that shone out of his and Harry's wand was reflected sharply by three stones, rubies and diamonds; the stones themselves attached to the handle of a sword that was sticking out of the ground.

Relief coursed though his veins and he turned around towards Harry with a broad smile, the wand light pointing at his friend's face which was depicting shock rather than exhilaration. Harry was still looking straight at the sword without making any attempt towards retrieving it.

"Wha-" he began confused, and focused the light on the sword again, and this time, he saw. The sword was surely standing upright, but its point was not buried into the ground as he had assumed earlier- it was driven deep inside an inert body.

He did not need to see the face to know who it was. He knew that dress. He walked as if in a haze, his feet carrying him to her while his brain screamed silently in agony.

 _IT'S NOT HER! IT CAN'T BE!_

He stopped right next to her, not even aware where Harry was. It was Hermione, yes, this is what she was wearing when they had left her sleeping peacefully in that room, the same peach gown she had been rescued in months ago.

But how did she get here? Maybe she had woken up and seen the light and followed just like them. His legs gave away and he collapsed on his knees next to her bleeding form. The blood from the wound soaked her gown and dripped down into the ground.

He placed his hand in her open palm. She was still warm to touch. His eyes lingered on her face, those blank eyes looking into nothingness, mouth slightly open and the curly mane spread around her head in a hallo.

 _NO! NO! NO!_

His brain continued to scream and he could roughly make out Harry's muffled sobs in the background. Nothing made sense anymore. He could hardly feel anything. Some instinct kicked in deep inside and he pushed himself up with difficulty.

He grasped the sword at the hilt and barely holding back the scream that tore through his being, pulled it out of her body.

He collapsed soon after. The sword lay forgotten at his side and he crouched next to her dead body. Tears leaked from his forcefully shut eyes, and his body shook with silent grief that crashed on him like waves crashing on the shore, steady and unrelenting.

 _Why had he not warned her before coming? Why did he leave her behind wandless? Why? Why?_

As his pain intensified he bent lower to place his head on her bosom, hoping against hope to hear a heartbeat. But instead of the softness he expected his forehead met hard scratchy wood.

He looked up in shock and feeling the slight pressure of Harry's palm on his shoulder, turned to meet the younger man's bloodshot eyes.

"It was an illusion. Look," he said in a hoarse voice and a watery smile and Ron silently obeyed.

In the very place where her 'body' had been, lay an old log with a deep welt in it like it had been punctured with a long, sharp object.

He cried then, deep heart-wrenching sobs that were partly out of terror and rest out of relief.

"Let's get it done, mate," after what seemed a long while and Ron picked up and handed him the sword.

"No, not this. The locket," stated Harry firmly.

Confused and more than a bit weary, Ron did as asked. The object that had been torturing him for months felt heavier than before; he could almost sense the heart vibrating madly inside the small case. Pulling it out, he gave it to his mate and silently offered the sword again.

"No Ron, you have to wield the sword," Harry stated firmly.

"I-I can't, mate," he coughed wearily, "That fucking thing effects me worse than you both," he added.

"All the more reason for you to get rid of it," countered Harry looking intently at him.

Ron gazed at his friend for a while. Yes, that blasted thing had hurt him a lot and made him do insane things. It had almost made him do unthinkable things to Hermione...

He pulled himself up and meeting Harry's eyes gripped the sword tighter and nodded in affirmation. His best mate gave him an encouraging smile and patted his back before moving over to a large rock Ron had noticed before.

"On the count of three I'll open it," said Harry determinedly, "finish it immediately. It will put up a fight, the piece of soul inside the diary tried to kill me."

Ron almost said that the locket had already damaged a lot of him inside but refrained, wondering how Harry was planning to open it. They had not managed it in all these days. He gripped the hilt tighter doubting if he was made for this.

He was so lost in his own doubts that he almost missed that Harry had begun counting. On the count of three, he said something in Parseltongue and the locket spit open in two parts- an ugly red eye looking out at them.

"KILL IT, RON!" screamed Harry but Ron was too mesmerised as he watched the large volume of green smoke that blasted out of the locket.

" _Ronald Weasley_ ," sneered the Voice that had tortured him for months as the wispy smoke began taking shape.

"KILL IT!" screamed Harry again from somewhere behind him but he continued to gaze as the smoke twisted and turned to take the shape of a woman.

" _Think you are so noble, Ronald Weasley? Best friend of the Chosen One assigned guard of Hermione Granger! And now you choose to wield Godric Gryffindor's sword to kill me? But I have seen your heart Ronald, you are weak and evil yourself!"_

"KILL IT, RON! KILL IT!" bellowed Harry but there was a fierce wind blowing around them that made it difficult for Harry to approach him. The shape, however, was forming steadily into Hermione, more beautiful and more delicate.

" _You have used the girl entrusted to your care to sooth your lust, used her dependency and trust to molest her body,"_ boomed the Voice cutting out Harry's words. The shapes began to change and now there was another wispy form- _him_.

Ron looked up at his greenish image that leered sickeningly at wispy Hermione's smaller frame and pulled her to itself. There was no hiding the lust and the evil that shone in its red eyes as it pulled wispy Hermione's face up and claimed her lips hungrily.

" _You never forgave her for what she did and now, finally when she has nowhere to go, you make her pay for everything she did to you. You claim her by force because you know she will not choose you of her free will."_

The vapour Ron was devouring his companion ruthlessly while she whimpered. Ron looked on shaking to his bone as his nightmares played out in front of his eyes. It was all the same, the way she slowly unbuttoned herself, the way he ripped her clothes away and threw her on the bed, the way she buried her face in the pillow and he removed the rest of her clothing away. But unlike that night, there was nothing slow here- the predatory hunger oozed from every pour of Riddle Ron.

His vapour form pounced down on the smaller body, pinning her translucent arms on either side of her body and began thrusting inside her roughly while she let out open mouthed but silent screams. The voice spoke again.

" _You took her against her will, soiled her body and threatened her to keep quiet,"_ laughed the voice louder and he looked up because a part of that was a lie.

"NO!" he yelled staggering to his feet.

" _Yes, Ronald, yes. Leave and run, you are not worthy to be in this fight, not worthy of being friends, of being loved or trusted-"_

The sword blade came down in a swift motion, cutting through the green wisps till a loud clack echoed around them and the damaged locket scuttled down the rock onto the ground.

He dropped the sword and slunk down on the ground shaking wildly.

 _..._

He placed his hand tentatively on the shoulder of the shaking form of his best friend, images from moments earlier bombarding his vision still.

"Ron?" he called softly but the taller boy continued to sob, crouched low.

"Don't listen to it, mate, it was lying. You know that, right?" he asked forcing conviction into his voice although an enormous number of doubts surfaced over and over again. Hermione- the image of her dead form had almost finished him off. He had never told her, but he assumed she knew that she was the sister he never had. They were brought together by fate, orphans of the war- united by a goal. And to see her dead had been... devastating. But that was a lie, a piece of illusion and so was everything the soul of Voldemort had just spurred. Wasn't it? Ron would never do anything so terrible.

 _But what if he had?_

Harry had always kept away from whatever his friends had between them but if Ron was exploiting the right Dumbledore himself had given him, Harry would not stand and watch- best mate or not.

He questioned himself again. Would he believe Voldemort over his best mate? No. _But then, why didn't Ron wield the sword earlier? And why would the Horcrux create such absurd lies? Was there something he had missed?_ He tried recalling how his friends were around each other. Hermione seemed genuinely fond of Ron and he was sure Ron cared for her. But yes, he had been angry about her betrayal. But that was more than a year ago, surely he wasn't holding on to the grudge for so long? And even if he was, he wouldn't go so far as...

 _Planning and plotting revenge so methodically... so strategically? Like the chess master he was?_

 _No, he wouldn't._ He told himself firmly. But a nagging doubt remained. _Wasn't Ron and Hermione's interaction strained of late? Wasn't she more comfortable around him?_

"The locket was lying, wasn't it Ron?" he asked holding on with baited breath for his best friend's response.

Ron did not answer but looked up with tears floating in those blue orbs that held pain and... guilt.

"Y-You didn't force her did you?" he asked in a shocked whisper, still not ready to believe what his eyes were telling him.

Ron sobbed harder and Harry staggered a few steps back in shock, and after a few deep breaths came forward to push the taller boy up.

"Get up! Get up, Ron!" he half yelled as he pushed the taller man on his feet.

"Look at me in the eye and tell me-" he stopped wondering how to ask what he was not even ready to imagine, "- you did not do anything to her you shouldn't have, have you?" he inquired urgently, pleading silently for Ron to deny.

Ron met his eyes once and looked away in what could only be described as shame and Harry could almost feel the world crashing around him. What was wrong with his world? Why was everybody he trusted intent on proving him wrong? First Dumbledore and now Ron...

Anger replaced hurt pretty soon. Striding over to his best mate he gripped the freckled arm forcefully and turned him around before punching him hard in his face with as much force as he could muster.

"You've disgraced Dumbledore's trust and your Mum's upbringing and you have disgraced our friendship. Stay. Away. From. Her." He spat venomously and strode away.

* * *

 _ **A/N:**_ Please don't kill me yet! Next update in some hours. Please review.

/ editing my notes here. Still a bit of work left on the next chapter. Might be posted in the next couple of days. Will not take me much time but tomorrow being a weekend I'm not sure how much spare time my kid and hubby(other kid) will give me to work on this.


	47. The Horcrux's Revenge – Part 2

**A/N:** Next chapter as promised. Though, this might come a little later than I intended. Apologies, my meds are troubling me still and I rewrote almost the whole of it again because I wasn't happy with the previous version.

 **All Characters belong to JKR**

* * *

 **Chapter 46: The Horcrux's Revenge – Part 2**

She woke up to an overcast, gloomy morning and found Harry sitting on the couch, stooping low and watching the Snitch that fluttered softly in his palm. The moleskin pouch he wore around his neck was on the circular table in front with its items scattered around it. With dark circles around his eyes and unshaved, scratchy stubble on his cheeks, he looked worn out as if he hadn't slept the night.

"Harry?" she called softly, taking in his form more closely. He looked up and she was almost shocked at the amount of hurt that floated in his green obs.

Pushing away the covers quickly along with her notes that were still spread all over the bed, she made her way towards him and sat herself down on the arm of his couch.

"What's wrong, Harry?" she asked pulling the Snitch away from his hand and placing it on the table.

Harry's eyes moved from the Snitch to her face. He looked genuinely hurt and she wracked her brains to think of a reason good enough.

Finally, he shifted a little and pulled out the broken locket and placed it on her hand.

She paused open mouth for a while looking at the object on her palm to him and again before a smile broke through.

"HOW?! I mean, wow! You destroyed it! How?" she asked excitedly turning the object around in her hands. In response, he pulled out the sword that was so far concealed under the cushions next to him.

She took it wordlessly, running her fingers over the sharp edge and the bejewelled hilt. It was heavy. It must have taken a great deal of strength to crush the locket as it had been. She let out a sigh of relief feeling like a burden she had been holding on for days, months perhaps, was lifted off. She pulled herself off the couch and moving over slumped down heavily on the bed.

Ron would be so relieved.

She knew he hated it and after Harry's outburst she knew, it effected Ron too even if he didn't say it aloud. She was not so sure because rarely did she handle it all by herself like the boys, but if her doubts were anything to go by, she presumed it enhanced her doubts regarding her support of the Order. But every time that happened, she thought back on the image of her cursed down home. Hermione found that was highly effective in getting her perspectives in place.

"Wow," she sighed happily before remembering something, "Where did you get this? And why didn't you wake me up? And where the hell is Ron?" she asked looking around. In all honesty she was feeling a little miffed at being left out now that the excitement was beginning to settle down and more important things began to get into focus.

Harry seemed even more stern than before; his unshaved jaw was more pronounced and eyes looked away from her towards the empty balcony.

"I need some tea, do you want some?" he asked diverting the topic before picking himself us and walking away briskly.

"What's wrong with him?" she thought aloud. The grey masses outside were getting denser and chilly wind blew through the open balcony door making the curtains sway frantically and cause her lose parchments to scatter all over the floor.

Grumbling softly under her breath she closed the door and proceeded to collect all her notes back, wondering where on earth her wand was.

It was only after she had changed into a warm pair of denim and jumpers that originally belonged to Ginny that she trudged down the stairs towards the kitchen. She was sure she would find Ron there with a plate of whatever little they could have for breakfast. But he wasn't.

Harry was sipping on his cup, a plate consisting of two lightly buttered toasts and another steaming cup placed in front of a chair she usually occupied.

She picked it up and took a long sip relishing the warmth it spread through her body. The storm outside had intensified so much that even with all the windows boarded up she could still make out the wind and the rain howling.

"Horrid weather," she stated simply as she sat down.

"Yeah," he replied without looking at her.

"Where is Ron?" she asked taking a bite off the toast, "And by the way, have you seen my wand?"

He pulled it out from his jeans pocket and handed it over to her wordlessly.

"Thanks," she smiled, "And where _is_ Ron, Harry? I've checked his room as well as the library, he isn't there."

"I donno," he replied simply but she could easily see the stiffening of his jaw.

"Did you both get into a fight?" she asked confused, her annoyance peaking when he refrained from responding.

"Come on, Harry! What's wrong? I wake up in the morning with a destroyed Horcrux, Ron is probably sitting alone in the Bell Tower again in this storm and you are annoyingly quiet! Why can't you just tell me what is happening?" she exclaimed haughtily.

He finally turned at her.

"Why didn't you tell me anything?" he asked slowly, the pain she had sensed earlier radiating out of him.

"I-" she began," What are you talking about?" she asked softly, thoroughly confused.

Somehow her answer seemed to anger him all the more. He banged the empty cup on the table and pushing his chair back roughly, stood up to tower over her. Had it been Ron she would have felt very different, scared and aroused at the same time, but this was Harry- she realised she was just curious and confused.

"WHY DIDN'T YOU TELL ME WHAT HE WAS DOING TO YOU? WHY COULDN'T YOU TRUST ME, HERMIONE?"

"Harry- I , I seriously don't know what you are talking about," she replied.

"IS THIS WHAT HE TOLD YOU TO SAY IF I EVER FOUND OUT?" he yelled banging his fist on the table, causing the china to clutter as a result.

"Are talking about _Ron_?" she asked bewildered.

Well, Ron was causing her quite an amount of grief by being aloof after his proclamation of love but Hermione could hardly relate that with Harry's outburst. Unless, he was angered by it? She groaned internally. No- that wasn't possible. He was like her brother, and as far as she knew, he felt the same sibling kind of affection for her.

She picked herself up from her chair and moved away to stand next to him. Harry was not as tall as her favourite Weasley but was still a head taller than her. As she got closer, she could see the vein throbbing at his temple and she braised herself for an angry outburst. Tentatively, she placed a hand on his shoulder to cool him down. His stance changed suddenly and surprising her all the more, he pulled her into his arms in a brotherly sort of way. If she could guess right, caught as she was against his chest, she felt rather than heard his quiet sobs as he ran his hand soothingly on her back.

"Oh, I'm so sorry, Hermione..." he said in a hoarse voice. "Gosh, I'm so sorry!"

She pushed herself off him because, honestly, he wasn't making any sense. Harry brought his hands up and cupped her face and held it between his palms.

"I know I'm not you brother by blood but I always thought of you as my sister," he breathed slowly and she fought a lump in her throat at his words.

"I know," she replied with a small, teary smile.

"Then you should have known that I'd so anything to keep you safe even if it was from my best mate, Hermione," he announced, not hiding a fair bit of anger.

She was about to ask what he was talking about when there was a sound of footsteps and clearing of a throat.

Ron walked in looking worse than Harry. His clothes were wet and shoes were muddy. He glanced once at the two of them and then averting his eyes moved closer to the table and placed the two articles in his hand on it- his wand and the Deluminator.

"I- just came here to fetch some tea," he said to no one in particular and Hermione, surprised by this strange behaviour turned towards Harry. He removed his hands from her face and she was all the more confused to find his eyes shooting daggers at his best mate.

"I'll-" she began but was stopped by Harry's firm grip on her arm.

"Harry?" she inquired trying to get her wrist free but he did not loosen his grip. She turned towards Ron to find him pouring out a cup for himself from the hot kettle. He turned once to watch Harry's grip on her and a strange sort of emotion floated in his eyes before he looked away and walked briskly to pick up his wand.

"I'm planning to stay at the cottage," he announced without looking at them and she felt Harry snort next to her.

"Call me if you need me," he added in a quieter voice before moving out.

"Ron! Wait!" she called but he didn't look back, neither did Harry let he go.

...

"What the hell is wrong with you?!" she snapped turning around at him. Harry let her arm go and collapsed on the chair. A part of him was questioning his behaviour as well as hers. If all that he found out the previous night was true then why was she still so concerned about Ron? He pushed that thought aside. Ron had practically accepted his crime, and even his demure today suggested the same.

"I know what he is doing to you, Hermione. He won't hurt you again. He might be my best mate but that doesn't give him the right to play with you," he declared firmly. He hoped he would not have to word it out explicitly for her and she would simply figure it out herself.

Hermione however, gave him a bewildered look that made him all the more exasperated. To his surprise, she even seemed to blush a little. His temper was already close to the surface, it increased all the more as he remembered the images from the previous night.

"I don't know what you are talking about," she replied softly and he saw red.

"OH, YOU DON'T, DO YOU?" he yelled back regretting immediately as he saw the shock and hurt in her eyes.

"I know... I know he is forcing you to sleep with him..." he stuttered without meeting her eyes, the words felt like acid in his mouth, leaving a foul taste behind once they were said aloud.

"Why would you say that?" she cried after letting out a small gasp.

He looked up to find Hermione looking pale and quite a bit shaken and uncomfortable by his words; he couldn't blame her.

"Because I know..." he replied, uneasy himself, "Ron practically accepted it himself last night," he finished grinding his teeth.

"But that's not true!"

He met her eyes and let out a bitter chuckle, "What did he threaten you with, to make you lie? I told you he admitted it himself."

She rolled her eyes and banged down with her palms on the table. "I AM TELLING YOU, THAT'S NOT TRUE!" she yelled and he could not help the slight ray of hope that glimmered at her words.

"But-" he began only to be cut off by her.

"Yes, he is a jerk. He has complicated things between us by his pigheadedness but- " she coloured sharply and averted her eyes shyly, "-it's not like you said. He never forced anything, it was all very much consensual," she finished in a shaky voice.

"What even gave you this idea, Harry?" she asked as he felt horribly back-footed.

"The Horcrux," he replied softly trying to untangle the facts, desperate to filter the truth from the lies.

He pulled the chair and sat next to her standing form and haltingly told her the events of the past night, how both of them had followed a Patronus which lead them to the sword and the events that followed. He told her how they found it buried in an enchanted wood but did not give details.

"And then... Ron stabbed it." He finished a little lamely still unable to give her the graphic details of all that the Horcrux had shown and she scrunched her brows.

"Wha-... just like that?" she asked unbelievingly but Harry remained quiet, not forthcoming with any other information.

She let out a small sound of impatience and plopped down on the chair.

"Look, Harry, it doesn't make sense, okay? Firs,t both of you leave the Chateau to follow this Patronus without even knowing who cast it! You both could have been killed for all we know! And then you say it led you to the sword? Just like that? We've been here months and we never found this earlier, how did it get here? And the Locket? Ron just stabs it and the Horcrux –it-it dies, just like that? You want me to believe that? And how does this even relate to what you told me about Ron? Stop lying..."

"Me? No, Hermione, I'm not lying. Just keeping the bad facts away." He said finally and she paused to look at him.

"Look you've got to tell me, okay?" she said pushing back her chair and kneeling down in front of him; he looked at her inquiring eyes and released a heavy breath. This would be hard. He didn't wish to repeat it but he had for her sake and for the sake of truth... and for the sake of his friendship with Ron or whatever was left of it.

He told her everything, the images and the words and Ron's silent acceptance of it all. When he finished he found tears rolling down her cheeks which she hastily wiped off her face with the back of her arm. She pushed herself back in the chair and buried her face in her hands and cried, and he pulled himself closer and sat next to her with an arm around her shoulder.

"They are lies, all lies, Harry!" she whispered softly after a while, biting between words to cut out her whimpers. "That foul, evil object has been playing with his head!" she snapped pushing his arms off and standing up.

"Oh my God! Was he possessed?!" she shrieked and he slumped back because the words hit so hard.

"I don't know..." he replied feeling the bubble of guilt getting bigger.

"He was a little disturbed and angsty, wasn't he, all these days and I never realised," she muttered almost to herself. "But it was the Horcrux, wasn't it?" she added in almost a whisper as her eyes focused on a spot above his head, "Yes... even that day...he ..." she stopped, blushing for a minute before appearing to shake herself off her thoughts.

"Yes, yes! It has to be the Horcrux! It made you spew those things at Ron that day. He had been disturbed since we found it, yes, it all sums up! He was wearing it that day! Yes, it all makes sense now!" she muttered on, her eyes glazing the familiar way when she solved a problem.

"The Horcruxes, Harry! Don't you see?" she cried and continued without giving him a chance to speak.

"They are evil! Yes, the Diary tried to kill you. Riddle that came out of its pages told you that it wanted to finish _you_ , not the Muggleborns like it was supposed to do... The Ring... the ring... You saw Dumbledore wearing it, and his hand, remember? It got cursed...why would he wear it if it was a Horcrux?" she spoke aloud and Harry realised she was not talking to him exactly but voicing her solutions and thoughts aloud.

"Unless, you were right all along... it's the stone... The Resurrection stone... Maybe... maybe Dumbledore wanted it too? He lost his family, didn't he? He must have wanted to see them again... who wouldn't want to..." she whispered softly and Harry realised, the thought went deeper, almost like an undisclosed, forbidden desire.

"It was the stone that made him wear it... And the Horcrux once again harmed the one who was destined to finish it. So that is what these evil objects are capable of... Detecting the threat and harming him or her the most... It all fits... That's why the locket targeted Ron... and it played it till the end... by pitting you against your best mate, Harry."

Harry was stumped. There was no other word for it.

"Why didn't you believe him, Harry? Why didn't you trust him?" she asked softly, "Don't you know, Ron of all the people can never do any such thing? Even the thought of it will make his enormous guilt eat him alive..." she said adding to his remorse.

...

Once she was out of the Chateau, walking underneath the canopy of vines that lead to the Cottage, she finally allowed herself think, slowly processing everything she had discovered and the implications of it all.

She paused just beyond the entrance to the Cottage, water dripping down of the leaves was soaking her as she had forgotten the wand at the table. But getting wet was the least of her concerns at the moment. A shudder of a breath escaped her without conscious thought.

He was possessed... that time when they were together... _Ron was possessed by the Horcrux...possessed by the Dark Lord..._

She felt bile rush up her throat and forced herself to take deep breaths. He had seemed different, more seductive almost like the dark arts themselves, enchanting and alluring. He had seemed to radiate power she could not resist despite her heart asking her to flee. And he had not kissed her, not till she had removed the Locket off him.

But one thing still did not make sense- Why would Ron accept being guilty of forcing her into it even if he had been possessed? She had been completely complaisant...

Realising that no one but the person beyond the wooden door held her answers, she took in a deep, steadying breath before turning the handle and pushing the door open.

...

"Ron?" she called softly. The small, un-stocked kitchen that also doubled up as the dining area was empty and dark. It was hardly mid-morning, but the terrible weather made it look like late evening. She moved over to the lone bedroom and then finding it empty as well moved towards the living area.

Ron was sitting on the couch, his back reclined and long legs stretched in front of him crossed at the ankles. His eyes were closed and Hermione noiselessly moved behind him to move the long fringe off his eyes.

He was up in a flash and she found his wand pointed at her chin before he relaxed and removed it. One look at her and he moved over to collapse on the couch again before he spoke.

"Why are you here?" he asked in an emotionless voice.

"Why are _you_ here?" she asked him back.

"Because that's the best for all of us." He replied just as blankly as before. "Go back."

Hermione debated if there was a fine trace of hurt behind those words. She had specifically asked Harry to let her talk to Ron first and she knew the younger boy had agreed a little grudgingly. However, she wondered now if an open discussion between the three wouldn't be better. But she had made a conscious decision. Things she needed to ask Ron were too personal to be discussed in front of Harry.

"I know what happened last night," she whispered but the sudden movement, making him turn towards her told her he had heard her alright. He looked at her for a little while before his shoulders slumped and he looked away.

"Then you shouldn't have come here at all," he whispered softly.

"That gives me all the more reason to come here, Ron," she said firmly, moving over to stand in front of him. She bent and sat on her knees to be able to look into his downcast eyes.

"You didn't do anything. You know that. What are you blaming yourself for?" she asked softly as she placed a caring palm on his cheeks. He gently moved her hand away.

"You don't know everything," he replied and she almost cried at the amount of self-loathing the words carried.

"Oh, I think I do!" she exclaimed softly. "It was that blasted Locket, wasn't it Ron? It twisted everything that happened... You didn't force me at all... A-And you know you didn't go all the way..." she added, her cheeks colouring sharply as she looked away.

When Ron remained quiet she turned around to find silent tears dripping down his long nose. But before she could walk over to him and pull him in her arms, he wiped off the tears with the back of his hand and sniffed before speaking,

"There is more..."

"That you were possessed?" she answered for him. She was ready to tell him that was not his fault either if that evil object used her to get to him. She would not let him take the blame and feel guilty no matter how sick she felt about it.

"I was not possessed, Hermione,"

His words stopped everything that was at the tip of her lips.

"I was _not_ possessed," he went on, "I knew what I was doing. The locket made my emotions all worse, my doubts and my-my lust, but ... I was not possessed."

"Oh," she replied. His confession confused her. On one hand, she was glad that it was not the evil but Ron who took her that night but she could now figure the cause of his distress. She remembered the way he had approached her, there was something predatory there, and something that triggered her instincts to flee.

"Were you aware of what was happening?" she asked.

"Did I know how I was affecting you? Yes, I guess I did...it was like I was a fucking blood thirsty predator trapping my prey!" he screamed moving up and pacing around the room furiously.

"I know what I was doing, Hermione! I know what I would have done if you had not thrown that locket away... Just because I stopped doesn't mean that I wasn't planning to take you, against your will if need be..." he cried banging his fists against the wall.

She didn't know what to say or what to think. This was getting way more complicated than she had previously imagined it would be.

"But you stopped, and that matters..." she said realising that her voice sounded strange, almost strained and he laughed bitterly.

"It does?"

She took a deep breath and licked her parched lips. Turning towards the tall figure that stood with his back towards her, she whispered the rest slowly but confidently.

"That Locket was foul. It made everything that troubles us worse. It just aggravated y-your desires and made you act in a way you normally never would. Your guilt proves it, Ron... You would never have forced me into sex. Even if I hadn't removed it, you would have still stopped." He turned towards her watching her with a strange mix of emotions in his eyes and she pulled out every bit of strength to continue.

"And-And I don't blame you... I was there with you of my own will..." she added softly looking at her feet, rubbing her toes on the carpet.

She looked up because she heard him chuckle, but those eyes looked haunted.

He walked towards her and stood barely a foot away.

"You don't realise it still, do you, 'Mione? I-" he gulped audibly and looked away before meeting her eyes with his tired, guilt ridden ones.

"-It wasn't about making love to you that night..." he whispered and she could feel her heart throbbing madly. Something told her this was getting bad, worse than everything so far.

"That blasted thing made me doubt all I know, about myself... about you, about Harry... And I fell for it...I-I was not planning to make love to you, not initially... I was ... checking on you..."

She remembered suddenly, the way he had seen the rip on her sleeve, the way he had asked if she had been with Harry when that happened. She remembered the way his eyes took her in and she had felt like he was searching for something, the way his fingers touched and probed to see... He had been checking on her... checking her body... for marks... for signs of betrayal...

The realisation hit her like a boulder knocking the air from her lungs and her arm shot up of their own accord to land sharply on his face- the sound of the slap echoing off the walls around them.

He did not flinch. It was like he was prepared for this.

"You thought I was sleeping with Harry?" she whispered hoarsely because anger and pain were rendering her speechless.

She could have even accepted Ron taking her under the influence of the locket- she was from the elite purebloods. Men in their families often treated women like their belongings and, as her mother had said, it was the natural way. There was nothing called marital rape in their society; the wife's body was the property of her husband to use as he pleased. She was not exactly for the idea, but like many other beliefs that had been ingrained in her, she had made her peace with it long ago. She had heard stories from her married cousins and it had been a common consensus that if the man was at least gentle in his approach, it was a fair deal.

But here, he had doubted her very loyalty towards him and her love, something that she had given him wholeheartedly. And he had allowed the Horcrux to manipulate him into thinking that she had been sleeping with- Harry! Had he not known her at all? How could he have fallen for that deceit when he knew the conservative world she belonged to? How had he even allowed the Horcrux to make him think that she would betray him in such a degraded manner?

She turned away and pulling the first door she could reach, walked out into the rain. He followed calling for her and she speeded her pace, not caring that she was walking towards the forest in the downpour.

He caught up with her and pulled her by her elbow and she tried shoving him off.

"Get away!" she screeched.

"I will but after you get inside," he screamed back.

"Well...Well... Well," came a bone-chilling, sneering voice from somewhere close by and within seconds, four bulky, dirty men surrounded them. Ron pulled her to himself and she could feel him trying to Apparate when one of the goons came forward and separated them. Her captor smelt of dirt, filth and blood. With mounting horror, she realised that they were out of the point of enchantments.

"Get away from her!" yelled Ron struggling against the hold of the beefy man who was holding him. Even as she watched, he stamped on his captor's foot and elbowed him in the ribs, making a dash at her when two men, this time, pulled him back and hit him back equally hard on his face and ribs.

Up in the Chateau, one young man watched the scene unfolding from the balcony and ran as fast as his legs would carry towards the exit. Little did he know that the safety protocol had been trigged with the capture of Ronald Weasley and he was now locked inside while his friends were being taken away to one of the darkest places in the Wizarding Britain.

* * *

 ** _A/N:_** Oh, finally we are here. More angst, I know! Can't help! I can't wait to know what you guys think of this chapter. Did it go as you expected or was it a letdown? Please let me know.

I do have one clarification to make. I know, Hermione's monologue about being okay with Ron taking her by force is not in character. I didn't intent it to be. I have said this before that I picture the elite Purebloods a little medieval in their thoughts and customs and that is what her character here is based on. That is why I felt she would be more hurt about his trust issues. Marital rape is still rape according to me but I am not sure, even today, how many countries consider it to be as grave a crime. My country doesn't although now we have quite a few groups coming out and asking the laws to be changed.

Thanks to each one of you for those reviews. I can't tell you how much they mean to me. I feel terrible not replying but I'm still undergoing medication which is cutting down my time on the laptop. And whatever little time I am able to squeeze out, I am using it to work on the story.

Thanks for all your support. Love you guys.

Btw, if you wish, you can follow me on tumblr. Look for **azaleablueme** and send me all your asks there.


	48. Captured

**A/N:** T **his author note is going to be a little long and I apologise beforehand for it.**

 **It is a response to a guest review I received for the previous chapter.**

 **First of all, thank you for that review. After hundreds of 'you are doing great' comments, I seriously needed this(honestly). I understand where you are coming from and I do agree with you on a point that yes, 47 chapters can be too long and tiring and by then you really want them to make up.**

 **I have been reading all my previous author notes in search of one, where I thought, I mentioned that this one is going to be longer than my other story When Fate Decides which has 50 chapters. But I think, I've forgotten to mention it all this time. I am not surprised with your disappointment. Even before I posted, I knew this story would be much too angsty and I would continue to gain and lose readers as I updated. A few, I thought, would stick till the end. You all have surprised me there. I never thought it would be so loved.**

 **Concept wise, it did start with one crazy thought 'what if Hermione was a pureblood Slytherin' and it grew from there, but even before the first five chapters were up, I knew the end and all the plot points I needed to get these two there. I never intended for this to be an easy love story- because the timeline of this was the beginning of the war. And that is what I wanted as the backdrop - Two people from totally opposite camps forced together before and during the war. Nothing here could be simplified. Life isn't that easy, is it?**

 **Could I have tweaked the timeline or gone off a different route? Of course, that was always an option. Honestly, no matter what it seems like, sticking to the timeline of the books is very restraining. Then why didn't I do it? Because if I did, I would have to go about explaining the new hunt and the story of Harry-Voldemort. I am an extremely fussy being, I hate when I feel I am leaving loose ends in a story. It would have become Harry's story and I didn't want that. I wanted this to be almost the same story we all know, but the focus would be on Ron and Hermione, their journey to self-recognition and understanding their love and their compatibility.**

 **And most importantly, life had to take a full circle. Hermione had to go back where she came from for her to find herself.**

 **Am I offended with your review? No, seriously! I have received way too much love in my short fan-fiction writing life to know that when a reader has spent so much time reading my story, he/she deserves the right to give me a feedback and let me know how I am doing- the good and the bad.**

 **This story is almost at its end. Because there will be a sequel, this story will end with** **the war and the post-war story will continue in the other one. That will be a Romance/Drama and not long(at least, that is the plan so far).**

 **Thanks for your patience and your love and all those fantastic reviews you send my way. Love you all.**

 **All characters belong to Ms JKR (except a few extra ones you don't recognise)**

* * *

 **Chapter 47: Captured**

When the effect of the side-along apparition ended, Ron found himself being dragged roughly towards a shady looking building in what seemed to be a downtown settlement. There was no storm here but the muddy puddles at the sides indicated that the showers were done with this place. Dilapidated houses and begrimed shops lined the street on either side. He scrunched his nose at the stink, noticing that piles of garbage that lay heaped at the dumpsters and mongrels scavenging for food, baring their ugly teeth as the group passed them. The leader of their captors merely kicked a particularly shabby looking one aside before trudging along the narrow lane.

A punch from earlier had landed on his face just below his left eye, and with the stiffness of the spot and the difficulty of vision, he realised that it had a swelling. His ribs ached. Not that anything was broken, not yet at least, but he knew there would definitely be a substantial amount of bruising. But nothing among these was currently the focus of his concern. He tilted his head while trying to work some life into his stiff shoulder muscles as the ropes he was bound with cut through his clothes. After his scuffle, they hadn't taken a chance and bound him such that his hands lay stiff on his sides while the scratchy, thick rope coiled around his torso. He tried looking out for Hermione and could only make out her form when the bulky man in front swayed in his steps. She was tied too but not like him. He noticed the tallest of the men, the assumed leader of the gang place a hand on her shoulder; she shrugged his hand away and blood raced to his temples. The bastard chuckled audibly and gripped her shoulder harder, guiding her towards what could only be described as a broken down mill of some kind.

If their surrounding was dingy, it was nothing compared to where they were now. The one-time mill looked to be some kind of a pub. It was dark- lit with dusty candles that only added to the revolting ambience, crowded, noisy and stank of fumes like Mundungus was known to smoke.

Ron wracked his brains for some kind of a brainwave. This place was giving him jitters. He was not concerned about himself, but this place was just not for a young woman like Hermione. _How had he gotten themselves into this mess?_ His wand had been snatched off and the way his limbs were tied he was practically losing all sensation in his muscles. And there were just too many of these blasted fuckers for him to escape with Hermione.

As the beefy man holding him up pushed him towards an empty table, he saw lusty eyed men bump into Hermione and quite intentionally even touch her.

"Keep your bloody hands off her, you swine!" he barked before he could stop himself and it was just because of the proximity that the dirty blond haired man drew his lusty eyes off her to turn towards him.

"What's yer problem, you filthy dog?" he spat at Ron's face with a jibe on his chest with the elbow, "She yer girl, eh?"

The group stood and howled.

"She's a pretty young thing, I might just keep her," laughed another as Ron struggled in his binds to reach her. He could not believe, after all, those protections they had landed themselves in this bloody mess. Their show was gathering attention and many of the partly and totally drunk men had begun to gather around, whistling at her and spewing out words no girl should have thrown at her.

"Silence!" barked the leader who had thus far kept quiet, and Ron noticed that, albeit grudgingly, but still, the immediate crowd fell quieter.

"Where is Stanley?" he barked at one weedy looking wizard who was carrying an atrocious number of bottles balanced on a tray, the same floating an inch or two above their heads.

"He's ... upstairs," the relatively younger boy mumbled.

"Fetch him," barked their head captor again.

"B-But he asked- not to be disturbed!" he said shakily as the bottles rattled in their place. Ron secretly wished the whole set would crash. At least it could give them a diversion and perhaps-

"Fucking some bitch he found on the hunt again? Tell him this is more important!" he yelled and the boy nodded and left.

"Bernie, this is just another haul, ain't it?" came the deep voice of the man who was holding him up. "We give these two off at the store, get our money and that's it. Why bother Stanley?" he asked.

The guy called Bernie glared towards the crowd, and those who were still enjoying the show scattered off to their own bottles. They were then pushed and pulled towards a darker corner- Ron made to stand facing the wall, such that he could not see her or anything else at all.

"Because you are a dickhead, Jamie!" replied the man when they were settled and Ron concentrated harder to hear them above the noise.

"This ain't a normal haul."

"It ain't?" came another voice.

"No. You see her?" Ron could make out a softer sound before she hissed, "Don't touch me!" and he made a futile effort to turn. The man guarding him was still standing behind him and he was pushed further into the ugly wall as the bricks rubbed roughly against his skin, leaving behind scratches.

"Keep steady, beautiful!" hissed Bernie, "I would have kept you for myself for at least a week before selling you if you didn't look so familiar." Ron felt a chill run down his spine at those words. Surely enough, it had shut her up too.

There were only the sounds of bottles scrapping on the wooden table and the sloppy sounds of drinking for quite a while before another set of footsteps approached.

"This better be good, Bernie. You interrupted my pleasure time with my latest collection," The man didn't sound menacing; on the contrary, he sounded sickeningly sweet. It bothered Ron all the more.

"Nothing you won't go back to after this is over," replied Bernie as the other men snickered.

"Ah, a man has his pleasures!" he laughed before instantly switching into a business tone.

"So, what have you got for me today?"

"A fair maiden and a redhead," quipped an eager extra before a sharp noise of fist hitting skin resounded around them.

"When I talk, you all keep your fucking mouths shut!" barked the now almost familiar voice.

"Fair maiden you say? Selling so soon? Is she a Mudblood then?" jeered the newest member.

"No, don't think so," came Bernie's voice again. "See her, Stanley. Thick curly brown hair, fair skin, brown eyes and with a tall, freckled redhead too. What if it's _her_?"

Ron was sure his heart had stopped beating. But then voices began again and he forced himself to pay attention.

"How do we know? Might just be a tramp for all we know. Look at her clothes!"

"But it'll be a waste if we use her like just another bitch and then find out later that she's the one they are looking for!"

The voices went on discussing their fate as if they were pieces of articles and not humans who were very much present.

"What about the boy?"

"We take him along. Might not fetch so much, but if she is who we think, he too might be worth a good haul."

"What's your name?" asked someone. Ron was too freaked by now to work out whose voice it was but Hermione remained quiet.

"You won't speak, eh? Never mind. You'll fetch us a decent sum if you indeed are Hermione Granger! And if you are not, I'll be more than glad to put you to some good use." barked Bernie.

...

Lucius Abraxas Malfoy was pacing in the grand room of his Manor that once used to be a seat of his business. However, with the recent developments, the still glamorous room was now his only source of some recluse. He paced around the plush carpet, while the fire in the grate caused his shadow to dance around the walls.

His huge redwood desk was littered with parchments, records of his falling finances. The years, the previous couple of them in fact, were not being kind to him. The Malfoy vaults were enormous and many, but of late, the only source of income had become the revenues on his various investments. Dark Lord's presence at his home and the more urgent nature of his world-conquering dreams had pushed Lucius's business activities on the back bench. He was hardly allowed outside the Mansion; getting more lucrative businesses up and running was a long stretch dream. It would not really have affected the Malfoy fortunes, but for his eccentric sister-in-law. Bellatrix Lestrange had taken up the mantel of 'gifting' the Lord a Mudblood-free world to rule over. Thousands of petty men were now assigned to find and bring these vermin of their society to her, in exchange for galleons of course. While she used these dispensable folk as experimental objects to practice her wild and often ugly spells, it was Lucius who was left to foot the bill for her entertainment, so to speak.

He paced faster, his once sleek but now lifeless hair framing his face and swaying with his motion.

Dark Lord's revival was way more powerful this time, but it had not helped him the least. _In fact, he was beginning to wonder if-._ He stopped his thought right there, his eyes bulging with fear at the thoughts his brain had almost churned out. As it is, he had lost the favours he once enjoyed, if the Dark Lord ever found out of his doubts, his family would be massacred- just like the Grangers.

The Grangers... Their wealth was serious competition to the Malfoys. In fact, considering their worth back in France, they might be worth more than old Nicolas Granger ever admitted. In fact, it was their murders that set the ball rolling for his misfortune in terms of money. Nicolas was the one to shell out the major funding although he was never a member of the Dark Lord's innermost circle.

Lucius rubbed his dry palms together and walked over to lower himself on the plush high chair his father and grandfather once occupied.

There was one hope, a feeble lingering one. It was not something he would have fancied if situations were otherwise, but if he wished to leave behind anything for his son and his grandchildren, there was no other solution in sight.

What Lucius did not know however was that his wish would come true so soon... well, almost...

...

"Master, you is being requested by Mistress Bellatrix in the parlour," bowed the elf. Fresh lash marks still evident across his face.

Lucius scrunched his face in disgust.

"Hmm," he replied jerking his palm to dismiss the creature. As less he cared about these vermins, he would still have to ask his lunatic sister-in-law to keep from harming them just for the fun of it. Two elves had already succumbed to their injuries from her and that mangy Potter had lost him one. At this rate, he would have no more servants left. Moreover, he was paying for her toys anyway, wasn't he?

He lifted himself up and with a fleeting glance at his table where his wand used to lay, trudged along towards the door. He had no wishes to know what she wanted to see him for. Surely, her trusted aides had caught some fresh meat for her to experiment on and she needed them to be paid for the service.

It wasn't like they had landed with Potter. She would have summoned their Lord and not him in such a case. _Ever eager to show that she was his most loyal servant, that bitch._

As he walked down the carpeted staircase he wondered how long the Dark Lord would be away this time. It had been a few days. And although it was something he would never dare admit, he preferred to have his master as far away from his home as he could. It was one thing to have fallen from grace, another to be taunted and laughed at by him in the presence of wizards who were not even fit to be the slaves of the Malfoy family.

"Aah, Lucius!" she cracked cheerfully showing off her ugly darken teeth as he pushed the parlour door open.

"Look what Stanley has found us!" she added gleefully and he turned around with barely there excitement. But soon a small smile broke through as his heart soar with joy before his eyes fell on another human and he scrunched his nose in disgust.

"Isn't that the Weasley boy? Potter's sidekick?" he asked slowly.

"I sure hope it is!" she cackled maniacally and jumped over to where the boy lay, bound and barely unconscious.

"Been giving us a load of trouble, this one," grumbled the guy he thought was called Bernard or something.

"Injured one of our men on the way and tried to escape with the girl."

"You didn't kill him, did you?" snarled Bellatrix, fisting his red hair and angling it to get a better look at his face.

"Nah, just taught him a lesson he won't forget in a hurry," replied Stanley, nonchalantly.

"So you want these two?" asked Bernard, or was it Bernie? He gave the girl a little shove and she turned her steel eyes at him.

"Told you, don't touch me, you filth!" she spat before turning towards Bella. Lucius thought she looked miserable clad in atrocious muggle attire, a little underfed and shabby looking too. But her posture and body language oozed pureblood sophistication.

"Untie me," she ordered and Lucius couldn't help admire her, especially because of the confused and appalled look Bella had at the moment.

"Shut your mouth! Who do you think you are to order me around?" she bellowed and raised her wand but Lucius was quicker.

He placed an arm on her wrist speaking carefully, "Hermione dear, how good to see you! We thought we had lost you forever!"

The girl turned a calculative eye towards him, and her eyes softened ever so slightly, "Pleased to meet you too, Lucius. But I can't believe the welcome I am getting at your home."

"Excuse us," injected Stanley, "We'd rather not interrupt a happy union, just give us our money and off we'll go."

"How much?" he asked without taking his eyes off the girl. She had been living with the enemy for more than a year now- either she would be a trove of information and an asset to their cause like Severus insisted his best student would be or she would have become Dumbledore's pawn by now.

"A thousand for the girl and another half for the boy!" spat Bernie.

"No, a thousand for each. This one has given us a lot of trouble," intervened Stanley.

He turned sharply towards the two men who were nothing but filth tarnishing the home of his noble ancestors with their presence.

"A thousand?" he spat.

"We thought you wanted her," sneered one.

"I'd have paid double for her but a thousand for _this_ boy?" he asked sneering.

"A thousand, take it or we take him back. Many of our gang would love to give him a fitting treatment, anyway!" countered Stanley.

"Fine, take him then," he shrugged. They would get all the information from her whether she was sympathetic with their cause or not. She had been with the Order and Potter all this while anyway.

"You sure?" they asked, kicking the boy on his back.

"No!" cried Hermione Granger cutting short his response.

He felt all pairs of eyes move towards her.

"I would like to talk to you," she said looking straight at his eyes and he furrowed his brows.

"Alone." She added looking at the two men.

He turned towards Bellatrix who was looking at the girl steadily. Lucius knew that look. She was furious and for obvious reasons. But for his own sake, he would have to keep Hermione out of reach of his maniac sister-in-law.

"Very well," he replied, curious.

...

The three of them moved to a smaller room behind the parlour.

"Open these," Hermione said again and he gestured at his wife's sister, who eyed the girl with deep loathing and suspicion.

"Why? You are a prisoner," Bella said in a deadly whisper that would have made many a grownup wizards to scuttle away from her. But the young girl stood her ground and stared back causing him to smirk. He was enjoying this.

"Hermione Granger a prisoner in the house of the Malfoys?" she sneered.

"This is the headquarters of the Death Eaters now, and you are nothing but a filthy blood traitor liaising with the enemy!" bellowed Bella lifting her wand.

"DON'T DARE CALL ME A BLOOD TRAITOR!" Hermione retorted sharply with fire in her eyes and Bella stopped despite herself before breaking into a blood-curdling laugh.

"YOU ARE A FILTHY BLOOD TRAITOR! YOU HAVE BEEN WITH THE ORDER FOR MONTHS NOW!" she screeched.

Hermione shook her head and laughed sarcastically.

"No wonder, the Dark Lord is looking for better soldiers. With a brain like yours, his missions are in serious jeopardy." she shrugged.

"HOW DARE YOU!" cried Bella, lifting up her wand, "Ava-"

"WAIT!" he cried, "Are you insane?! You know the Dark Lord wants her!" he hushed close to her ears.

"THE Dark Lord has the best servant he could ever find, ME!" Bellatrix hissed back.

"Suit yourself, Bellatrix but the Dark Lord will not be merciful if he gets to know you murdered the witch he chose as his future lieutenant," grinned the girl, evilly.

"You know?" he cried without meaning to.

"Of course, I do!" she hissed back. "Father told me, and I could not have been more proud," she replied with her shoulders straight, a true picture of the great house she belonged to.

"Your parents were a disgrace! They betrayed the Lord!" hissed Bella.

"I know and they got what they deserved." She replied with a casual shrug.

"So you knew and you were loyal to the Dark Lord's cause all this time?" he asked slowly. If she was lying he could find that easily.

"Trying Legitimancy?" she laughed, "Go ahead. But do you think I am so foolish? Don't I know how easy it will be for the Lord to find out my true alliance? I was always true to the cause. And I told my parents the same thing. But Father-" she spat, "He wasn't willing to let me join. Locked me up in my own wing! The next thing I know, I was 'rescued' by the Order. I didn't know of my parents' death, they told me. And I doubted that quite possibly the Order had a hand in it. But later I found out that it was done on the Dark Lord's orders. Serves them right anyway. I am sure the Dark Lord thought I shared their views. How would he know? So I bid my time; all this time. I slowly won over the confidence of the group."

"Why didn't you try escaping then?"

"Because I wanted to have enough information before I left."

...

Ron woke up with his head throbbing madly. It was dark all around. His arms felt like dead weight but slowly he could figure that he was shackled at the wrists with his back against a cold, damp stone wall. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he could roughly make out a small strip of light at the far end, quite possibly a door. His shoulders ached as his legs were not allowed to touch the ground but hung an inch over them.

His entire body was in pain with all the punches the gang had thrown at him in his unsuccessful bid at escape. He took gulps of air, his nostrils stinging at the cold dampness of the air around him,and licked his cracked lips.

"Hermione..." he breathed slowly. His throat was parched.

How long had it been since they had been captured? He couldn't tell.

There was a faint sound of footsteps that approached closer before the heavy door was pushed open and a short, stout man entered. In the light of the hallway, one of his arms gleamed.

"Awake are we?" the newcomer screeched like a rat.

"Wormtail," he breathed wishing for perhaps the thousandth time in his life that he would have strangled the mangy old rat when he had the chance.

"There are people who wish to see you," he cried gleefully.

"Your new masters I suppose?" he replied and the man hissed.

"Hold that tongue, boy. You are going to need it to save your skin."

"Where is she?" he asked.

"Who? The Granger girl?" he smirked and even in the dim light Ron could see the sneer.

"She is in good hands,"

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN, YOU BASTARD?!" he yelled.

"She sold you out, said she wanted to see you suffer as much as she has," he grinned before waving at Ron with a silver hand and closing the door behind him.

Ron remained motionless for a long time, his muscles aching in the restraints. Slowly a smile broke through his scratched and swollen face. It hurt him further but he did not care. It got bigger till it broke out of his system and he laughed aloud, a broken, rough laugh that echoed off the empty walls and came back to him.

 _Hermione Granger was a bloody brilliant actress._

...

Hermione took a long bath, allowing the soap and hot water to cleanse the dirt and stench off herself. Finally, dressed in a high-collared robe of black satin, she sat brushing the tangles of her hair. Her face looked pale to herself despite the heat that was still coursing through her body courtesy the warm water she had been soaking in.

She took a long, hard look at her reflection before releasing a haggard breath.

 _This was it._

Sitting still in front of the dresser, waiting to be called any minute now, she allowed herself to think of that one morning when she had woken up in Ron's bed and the promise she had made him.

 ** _Months ago, Ron's Room – Number 12, Grimauld Place_**

" _I-I can't do that!" she shock-whispered, looking at his tired face._

"' _Mione, please! You've got to understand!" he beseeched once more._

" _We'll be safe here. We'll never need to use this plan of yours," she replied stubbornly._

" _Let's hope so, but we need to be prepared nevertheless," he countered. "Admit it Hermione, nowhere is safe now, and we can't risk them finding Harry till he has finished the last Horcrux!"_

 _When she did nothing but continued to look at his eyes with hurt, he placed a gentle palm on her face, rubbing his thumb gently across her cheek._

" _You know Dumbledore would have wanted us to keep Harry safe; he is the best chance we have to win this."_

" _Not at your cost, Ron," she cried softly, fighting the tears of frustration._

" _You can save me! All of us, you know that. Whatever happens, we keep Harry safe-keep him from getting captured even by risking getting captured ourselves."_

" _They'll never believe me! And Snape knows the truth. He knows my loyalty lies with the Order, not the Death Eaters."_

" _They will believe you. You'll have to convince them that you are on their side, have always been since your capture. You'll have to do everything to gain their trust. That'll be our only chance to escape. You can always tell them that you never confided in Snape since you thought he was the Order's spy."_

" _How will that save you?" she asked hating his strategic mind because she knew in her heart his fears were not baseless, and the idea was brilliant- almost._

" _I don't know, but maybe you can hold them back from killing me by telling them you'd love to see me suffer longer or something? I am bloody sure those buggers will love the idea of that!" he laughed and she slapped him hard before crashing into his arms._

" _So, you'll do it if need be?" he asked holding her close._

" _I hate you, Ron..." she whispered._

" _Please..."_

 _"We'll have to avoid getting caught at all cost!"_

 _"Yes... But...If it ever happens?" he urged on._

" _I'll kill you if this stupid strategy of yours gets you killed, you moron!"_

" _Really?" he asked, snickering and she pulled him closer. "No, of course not...And... I don't really hate you"_

" _I know," he laughed softly and kissed her forehead._

 _"Promise me, whatever happens, you'll keep the pretence on. Your identity is our best chance after Harry, Hermione." he added softly._

 _..._

Hermione had not heard Ron's relived sigh - this one plan could ensure both his friends' safety, no matter what happened to him.

* * *

 _ **A/N:** Gosh, I have been waiting forever to share this chapter with you all. It took a fair bit of time but finally I'm happy with the way it came out. __We are bang in the middle of the climax and I can't wait to hear your thoughts._


	49. Rip Me Apart

**A/N: This chapter took a long time in addition to my peace of mind to get it done. I won't lie, I almost thought of giving up on this story because putting Ron through this has been an excruciating a task. This is a smaller chapter than you are used to. I am sorry but I just could not make it longer or more descriptive. In fact, this chapter was to have a few more things happening which will come in the next one now.**

 **Angst and lot of angst, please be braised. And I am sorry.**

To the guest reviewer: Thanks again for your review. I will again say, I get where you are coming from but I remember having pointed out in my author note (Chapter 17 to be exact) that this story is a close parallel track to the original books. In fact, I have also mentioned earlier that I assumed all my readers have read the books because this story is so entwined with the original.

Thanks to all my readers who have stuck with me for months now and a loving welcome to the new ones who have added this to your favourite/follow list recently. And hugs to those of you who have been kind enough to leave me a review. They mean a LOT to me.

* * *

 **All character rights belong to JKR**

 **Chapter 48: Rip Me Apart**

 _I am only telling this now because once you know the truth, you'll probably hate me - just as much as I hate myself, and I'll never get another chance to tell you how much you mean to me._

Ron's words, spoken weeks ago, echoed in her head and tore at her heart. It all made sense now.

Hermione had been pacing in her room. It might have been hours after she had come out of the bath, or perhaps even days- she could hardly figure out the length of time that had elapsed. But she was sure it had been a long, long while since the stout man with a silver hand, Pettigrew, had dragged Ron's tall unconscious form away from the parlour. It had taken her all the strength in the world to watch him being dragged away, the floor, although carpeted but still pretty rough, scratching his back. He was to be taken to the dungeons and left there- that was the deal, the time she had bought for them by her lies. Bellatrix, she knew, had only agreed because it would give her a chance at torture, and Lucius, no matter how welcoming he pretended to be, had different plans for sure.

Hermione knew she didn't have a lot of time- at least Ron didn't. They had only kept him alive because she had told them that Harry would do anything to get his best mate back alive. And, only Ron knew where Harry could possibly be. She was not so concerned about Harry because stuck inside the Chateau though he was, he was at least safe for now. Ron wasn't.

And Hermione couldn't help but blame herself for it.

If only she would not have walked out! But then, situations were so different at the time. Was it only this morning? It felt like a lifetime away. The fear of getting captured and then pulled into that seedy pub was nothing compared to what she felt now. And somehow, the dangerous predicament was making her mind process all the more furiously. It was like a long line of dots that she could easily connect. It all fell into place- Ron's silence and his guilt, his insistence that she keep her cover. All her anger and complaints could wait till they were safe and out of this place. It felt almost immature to be upset with him now, not just because his life was at risk but because she could easily see how he had thought it all up- and planned to keep both her and Harry safe while he took the brunt of it all.

She cleared her throat again as her breath came out in gasps, seemingly getting caught in her throat every time she tried inhaling deeply. They had to get out of here, but how? There was no chance of external help, Harry was locked in and the Order had no clue. To add to their woes, she had no wand and Ron was held up deep in the dungeons and injured. And this was just the beginning...

She shuddered to think of the measures Lucius and Bellatrix could come up with to make him speak. At the time, it had seemed the perfect way to keep him alive by saying that he held information they needed, but now, Hermione couldn't help but wonder if she had, by her lies, risked Ron's life further.

"Hermione dear?" she hated that voice but arranged her expressions immediately, straightening up her shoulders and lifting up her chin in that familiar, arrogant way.

"Lucius," she replied turning around at the man who looked a weakened version of one she once knew, but all the more dangerous for it.

"They found no trace of Potter where they picked you from," he said silkily but with a calculative eye.

"It would be stupid to lurk around in the shack after our capture. I'm afraid I have no idea where he can be, Lucius. I've told you the boys decided the hideout locations and they did not trust me enough to let me know. I wasn't even allowed my wand."

"Hmm," muttered the old man before meeting her eyes in with a flicker of a scorn which he hid with a smile.

"Well, I didn't mention it in front of Bella but I am a little disappointed in you, my child. One would have thought, a brilliant Slytherin like yourself would have fooled those two pesky boys in these many months."

If Hermione didn't already doubt his false pretence of warmth, his tone would have done it now. But she was no fool. The Malfoys did nothing without a definite motive and the lure of some form of gain but she could not really put a finger on his real agenda, well, apart from getting back the favours he had lost, for one.

"Tell me Lucius, would you trust someone from the Order so easily if the situations were reversed? They are fools but they have still managed to elude capture despite all of Bellatrix's goons. " she forced instead, and Lucius raised his brows before giving a curt nod.

"Well, we've got one of them now. Anyway, I am here to take you along, Bella wants a word with the blood traitor."

Hermione held on with every bit of Slytherin cunning and deceit she held in her bones and hoped that her face remained passive as Lucius watched her intently.

"Sure," she replied with a smile and relaxed as the man seemed convinced, for the time being at least.

"After you, my dear," he called and she picked up her gown and walked off haughtily, the only thought keeping her from crumbling down was that Ron's life depended on her cover. If she blew hers up, he would become the spare and would not last a minute.

...

Hermione was petrified.

She could almost feel her heart throbbing at the base of her throat which was parched, to say the least. Fear flowed through her very bloodstream as she followed the two dark figures deep into the bowel of the Manor.

Stone steps spiralled downwards into pitch black darkness and she only hoped that Ron had not been dragged down over the rough-edged stones. The image of his bleeding, unconscious form flashed in front of her eyes and she grasped the dark, hard wall to steady her steps, regretting her action it immediately. Something damp and sticky covered her palm and as she brought her hand to her nose, bile forced its way up. It smelt of blood.

She pushed the knuckles of her other hand into her mouth to cut out the cry of horror that almost escaped. _Who knew what kind of horrors this place had been a witness to?_

Glad of the darkness that shrouded the narrow passage, she followed soundlessly as the figures ahead of her left the steps to move into one of the passages. Faint light from torches placed at great distances lit up the ceilings, and she quickened her steps breathing deeply.

Her brain was cursing her and rebuking her in a constant loop. She should have never gone ahead with the plan. The mad gleam in Bellatrix's eyes and that evil smile had rattled her to the core. The maniac woman was all too excited to torture the information of Harry's location out of Ron.

Once the Snatchers had come back from the shack empty handed, an irate Bellatrix had decided to use her new 'toy' for information. It was just an excuse; Hermione knew the mad witch was only itching to get her filthy hands on Harry Potter's best mate, perhaps because she could not kill Harry himself. And, there was a high chance that both she and Lucius wanted to see Hermione's reaction.

If Hermione was not mistaken, the witch had glanced at her once when she had outlined her plan. _Did she suspect something?_ Hermione sincerely hoped, not.

They crossed multiple cells, some of which were surely occupied by the sounds of whimpering coming through small gaps on their doors. The further they moved, the more her feet felt like lead. A thousand thoughts ran through her head. But all her ideas included her possessing a wand and Lucius had none. And even by the oddest shot if she could manage to get Lestrange's , they would still have to get out of this place and that particularly looked to be the biggest hurdle. The bad part was that, she didn't know when the Dark Lord would return but even without him, their chances for escape would only get worse the longer they were stuck here, the more time Bellatrix had to torture Ron.

...

His limbs felt like dead weight and his shoulders were killing him. There were scratches all across his back that stung with even the slightest of movement and his face was definitely bruised and swollen. He could do with a sip of water; the only meal he had had, if it could be called a meal at all, was a cup of tea that morning. It felt like days ago not hours. As the silence of the dungeon echoed around him, he let himself think of the two people who meant the most to him in the world. He couldn't help wonder how Harry would escape the Chateau while both he and Hermione were stuck here. To be honest, his plan would fall flat if Harry was caged in an impenetrable Chateau for all eternity. And Hermione- he hoped she was doing alright. The Death Eaters would be the last people he would trust to have around her but at least, if she kept the act going, they would not harm her.

It was clear that You-Know-Who was not present. If he was, both of them would be dead by now, or at least he would. His plan had bought them time but not much. They would have to figure out some way to get out. That would not be an easy task, least of all because of the fucking mess he was in at the moment. And if his guts were not wrong, things would only deteriorate further once Bellatrix Lestrange was involved. He braced himself mentally although he very much doubted that he could even fathom the crazy games the Death Eaters could come up with. Bellatrix had tortured the Longbottoms to insanity, had used Cruciatus on Harry at the Ministry. He was sure she had killed and maimed a thousand others just for the fun of it. Ron let out a breath that irritated his windpipe so much that he ended up coughing instead and that further triggered an ache in his chest.

But amidst all of it, the solace was that it was him, not Harry or Hermione or anyone from his family suspended on cuffs and left to rot in the dungeons of what could only be the Malfoy Manor. He blinked rapidly a few times to get the haze out of his vision reminding himself that he was a Gryffindor and a Weasley, he could take a little torture. Weasleys were strangely hard-wearing. Perhaps surviving for years in poor conditions hardened you up that way.

And this was always coming, wasn't it? He had to survive it for the sake of Harry and the goal they had in front of them. And, he had to survive for _her_ ; had to get her to safety, back to Harry. How things would be between him and his best mate could wait, for now, all he was worried about was Hermione. He hoped they would keep her out of their sick games. And in the worse case that she was present to witness, he hoped she would be able to hold her cover. He was suddenly gladder than ever. He had the better deal. He would never be able to bear it if he had to watch her getting tortured. It was barmy a thought, but at present, he felt glad about hurting her with his words earlier. _Perhaps if she was angry enough with him, his predicament wouldn't bother her as much..._

Faint sounds of footsteps were fast approaching and he tugged uselessly on the cuffs binding him to the pole that hung a foot above his head. A bone-chilling, high-pitched cackle sounded just as the heavy door opened, and in the torch flame that illuminated the corridor, Ron roughly figured three people walking in.

Bellatrix Lestrange entered with a stiff gait that barely hid the spring in her step and was followed by Lucius whose paleness looked ghostly in the semi-darkness. But it was the third figure that almost stopped his heart. For a brief moment when the light fell on her face, he saw the almost colourless face of Hermione Granger. However, the three shifted and their own bodies and shadows cut off the light altogether. He lifted his head slightly to notice that Hermione was standing almost at the door, while the taller witch approached him, her high heels clicking on the stone floor.

"Ahh, our guest is awake, Lucius!" she exclaimed gleefully.

"A filthy Weasley is no guest of mine," sneered Lucius distastefully, "and a blood traitor no less. What else can you expect from Arthur Weasley's spawn?" he spat and Ron, despite the many aches and injuries, forced his eyes on the vile old bastard.

"Oh, this one has a fight in him!" cheered Bellatrix moving a step closer. With her heels, she was almost as tall as him and thin.

She placed one long-nailed finger to run across his cheeks before hissing in a lower and much deadlier voice, "What's the fun in breaking the easy?"

The force of the finger increased as she pushed it harder against his cheeks. Placing the dirty nail on a cut from earlier, she dug her nails in and scratched it further, the warming of the skin telling him that it was now oozing blood.

Sure enough, Bellatrix removed her blood-coated finger and after glancing at it for a brief minute flicked it casually.

"Pure but tainted blood, dirty if you know what I mean?" she asked speaking to no one in particular. He continued to watch her fiercely without turning at the one girl who stood almost in the shadows.

Bellatrix turned around to face him again before flicking her wand, and a couple of torches fixed on the walls lit up, "What's a show if you can't see it, right Granger?" she asked maliciously and despite himself, his eyes were drawn to her.

 _Please Hermione, please..._ he repeated silently. She took a few steps ahead and Ron allowed himself a smile.

"WHAT ARE YOU SMILING ABOUT, WEASEL?" roared Lucius but before he could respond, Hermione spoke up. Her voice was calm, poised and reminded her way too much of their fifth year.

"He has a tendency of grasping things a little late," she replied keeping an eye on his face. She held her head straight and her face was nothing if not impassive, but those eyes met his for a minute and he saw what he needed to, fear and pain and... love. It was all he needed to hold on, to bear through whatever was coming his way. She turned away to face Lucius and her mask was hopefully on again.

"It will take him time to believe that he has been betrayed," she added with a shrug.

He spoke at last to seal her cover. "You've lived with us for more than a year now, was it all an act?"

"What else did you expect, Weasley?" she spat turning sharply towards him, and he noticed with a sideways glance that the two Death Eaters were watching them intently.

"I expected you would have seen what they are," he huffed. Talking was taking more effort than he had realised earlier.

"This is where I belong, Weasley. Did you expect me to live in the hovel you all call a home?" she sneered and it was so convincing that he looked shocked at her again.

"You never trusted me anyway, never gave me my wand," she went on and he was reminded that she was still acting. He smirked, "Well, it seems so very justified now, doesn't it?"

Bellatrix made an impatient sound, "ENOUGH OF YOUR BANTER!" she growled and pulled Hermione off to stand in front of Ron again.

"Where is Potter?" she asked looking deeply into his eyes and the lessons he had taken from Lupin surfaced automatically as his mind created a barrier.

"What makes you think I'll tell you?" he spat even while a jolt of pain ran through his shoulder.

Long, bony fingers clasped around his hair and pulled, nails scraping his scalp and he only breathed out in a huff keeping his lips closed in a tight line.

"If you care even a little for your life, tell me where Potter is and I might spare you."

He took a long look at her before looking away keeping both his mouth and mind shut all the time.

"Well, have it your way then!" she responded and then, the very next minute, white, hot fire seemed to be pumping through his very veins. His limbs convulsed, pain amplified by the bonds and his ears reverberated with screams which he later realised were his own.

...

Hermione knew she would have chosen death to this. She watched as Ron took one after one spell of Cruciatus, writhing and screaming, his voice bouncing off the walls and choking her heart. She was not even sure what her face depicted, perhaps it was as inert as her heart. She was sure she had crossed the limit of actually feeling pain. It was only numbness now that encompassed all her sensed. On and on it went for what seemed like hours before a voice screamed for the maniac to stop.

As two pairs of eyes turned towards her, she realised it was her own.

"Any problem, my dear?" came Lucius's silky voice and she turned mechanically towards him.

"He will be of no use if he goes insane." Her voice sounded stiff and devoid of emotions but somehow that seemed to please the other two.

"Why, yes! Yes!" cheered Malfoy Senior while Lestrange who looked like she was having the moment of her life, turned away from the limp form of Ron unwillingly to stare at Hermione instead.

"Are you feeling for this filth?" she asked looking at her eyes.

Hermione looked straight back, forcing herself to think of her initial days at Grimmauld Place. The memory of Ron holding her with her arms pinned at her back and then another where he barged away from the room shutting the door hard behind him flashing in her head before she looked away.

"You'll kill him and all our hopes of catching the _actual_ person the Dark Lord wants will be washed away. You may be a slave to your childish fancies, Bellatrix but I focus on the facts. We need him- alive and sane enough to give us answers," she replied.

The witch glared at her and she looked back impassively keeping her mind closed. Finally, the older woman turned away after shooting two spells at Ron that caused the chains at his wrist to crack leaving deep gashes on his arm while his body collapsed in a heap on the floor.

"Come on, we'll return when he is awake again," called Malfoy Senior and she took in a deep breath that hurt her already hurting chest region.

"He is bleeding," she said, it still didn't seem like her voice.

"So? He is a traitor, what does his blood mean?"

"Nothing. But he'll die if he continues to bleed like that. And that... will be a waste."

She could feel his grey eyes on her but she continued to look at Ron's inert form and after a while, heard the old man scream for Pettigrew. Mild words were exchanged as the other man arrived, and as the short,stout man raised his wand, she stopped him with a gesture.

"Give me your wand," she ordered.

"Why should I?" he asked, his words coming out like a squeak.

She glared in his direction, allowing her pent up fury to surface for once and noticed the man take a few steps back before grudgingly handing her the wood.

She rolled the wand in between her fingers for a while before setting a couple of healing spells at Ron's wrist. The wounds sealed and she shot a Rennervating spell.

"What-" half yelled Malfoy Senior at her action.

"What is the point of inflicting pain if he doesn't feel it?" She asked. That seemed to satisfy the old Death Eater and he gave her a sick smile. She gestured for the men to walk ahead of her and leave while she extinguished the flames drowning the cell in darkness.

When the men were a few paces ahead, she utilised the darkness to cast a couple of non-verbal healing spells towards Ron. They would not heal him altogether but would ease his pain, if only a little.

Just before she left the cell, she thought she heard a faint whisper, "Harry-"

...

 _Far away in a Chateau, a tiny object, which lay forgotten on a large dining table, repeated the sound in a small resonating whisper –_

" _Harry..."_

* * *

 _ **A/N:**_ _Please, please, please review and tell me you'll still be reading._


	50. Let Me Die a Little for You

**A/N: First of all, a shout out to all my readers from places around the world that are going through severe unrest now. I have almost given up watching the news because I can't take it anymore. Please keep safe and strong. Lots of love to all of you.**

 **Huge thanks to all my readers for keeping up with this story and giving it so much love. Don't worry, I won't abandon this. It was extremely hard to begin writing the torture scenes and hence the thought.**

 **This chapter is high on angst, and I am sorry for that. But this story was always going to be heavy on the darker side. I guess, I have crossed the five chapter limit I had set for myself. Something happens when I sit down to write and it all comes together in its own way. There is going to be another 3 for sure.**

 **Warning: HEAVY ANGST. PLEASE BE BRAISED.**

 **All Character Rights belong to J K Rowling.**

* * *

 **Chapter 49: Let Me Die a Little for You**

As the hazy figures moved out of the room and the heavy door of his cell closed again, Ron struggled to straighten the limbs that were bent in painful angles under his torso. In fact, his entire body was nothing more than a mass of muscles and bones that felt almost dislodged from his self. The strong tremors that had been rocking his body were no longer there, but faint traces of the same seem to shoot through his muscles at sudden intervals; they felt nothing less than hot shards of iron forced into his skin. They burned the path they took, leaving behind uncontrollable convulsions in their wake. Every cut, every bruise felt as if on fire, and nothing, not even the bitterly cold stone floor took away the burn. His heart beat so thunderously in his chest that Ron was sure it would finish all the beats due soon enough and stop. His head was splitting into two and a staggering unease was pushing its way through his abdomen from somewhere deep within.

His breath got more laboured as the discomfort rose higher and he involuntarily managed to lift himself up only to throw up violently. The bile scorched his already weakened food pipe that had been scratched raw by his screams. The effort that his body put in to get rid of the bile from his system drew out the last strains of strength left in him causing him to collapse barely an inch away from his own mess. He would not have cared anyway; he was way too exhausted to bother.

Heavy breaths came out in gasps out of his parted mouth as the rough floor scratched against his already burning cheeks. His clothes were soaked, with blood, grime or sweat he did not know, perhaps all of them. Ron lay there without making any effort to straighten his arms and closed his eyes as every single space on his body seem to yell and scream.

He was expecting the pain from the moment Bellatrix had come in, but what made it worse was his bonds. With every spell she threw at him, his body curved as if boiling lava was being poured into his very veins. He knew he would have been thrashing away and writhing if those heavy chains were not holding him up. His entire weight had been on his arms which were already tired and had no strength left to hold him upright. Each new spell made the pain worse. He was not even sure why she stopped or when for that matter. Everything was getting fuzzy, faces and words and plans. He held on for one thing – Harry; _Harry had to get out, Harry had to finish this._

He was not even aware when she stopped; perhaps he had passed out by then. He only faintly registered when there was a new kind of pain- that of his skin ripping at the wrists before his body was allowed to collapse on the floor. He heard nothing; voices if any were only a buzz in his ears. But then, there was a faint moment when warmth had tinged his senses, he felt more aware like a spell had washed over him, and, just like that, the pain had come into focus once more; this time with all its fury.

He moved with difficulty. With his eyes still closed, Ron felt his wrists. The jumper was soaked, with blood he was sure, and he tried staunching the wound by pressing his left wrist with his right palm. It took immense effort and the hands didn't seem to be cooperating with his brain, but he pushed on. However, when he finally managed to touch, in place of the extreme pain he expected along with the open wound, he found skin- sensitive and raw but skin nonetheless.

He felt on the other arm and found the same; the wounds had been closed. At least, it meant he was not going to bleed to death... _yet._ The unease in his abdomen was beginning to stew again and once more, the muscles of his stomach churned out more bile that burned his mouth. This time, he collapsed onto the mess, unable to move.

...

Hermione had no memory when she reached her room. She closed the heavy door behind her and walked mechanically towards the bed. The huge mirror reflected her ghostly form and she glanced at it without recognising the girl who looked back at her. Standing in front of the mirror, away from the scrutinising eyes of the band of Death Eaters, she forced herself to breathe... and feel. Some part of her that was still functioning was trying push a scream out of her; a scream and howl that would mirror the ones that were still ringing in her ears. But not a whimper came out; the words and pain seemingly caught within her system and struggling for an escape, constricting her ribcage in their struggle. Ron's screams and the way his body writhed under the Cruciatus swam in front of her eyes, and no matter how hard her brain tried to release the pent up agony and give her some relief, her eyes remained dry. After a long while, she pulled up her sleeves to look at her slightly bruised but otherwise fairly unblemished skin. Her pale, unmarked face looked back at her with dead eyes. It reminded her of the innumerable scars on his face, the one wound that Bellatrix ripped open with her nails, the blood that oozed out of his wrist and soaked his jumper, the blood-soaked jeans ripped at his knees...

Drawing in a breath that did not fill up her lungs, she pulled open her long dress allowing it to drop in a pool at her feet. Still walking in a trance-like state, Hermione entered the bath and stood under the shower. She didn't bother to turn it hot. The cold water dropped on her skin, shards of ice that pricked like needles but it was the pain of it that gave her some relief. Perhaps, this way she would be able to feel a fraction of what he was feeling, perhaps this way, the invisible marks of Ron's blood would be washed off her skin...

 _I hope this one lasts longer than the last one. I hope to get a few more goes before he dies. It's more fun with the ones that are hard to break._

Bellatrix's casually thrown words came back to her and ran through her heart like a stake. It was not over yet. She would not stop. She would keep torturing him till he relented, or died.

 _And Ron would never relent..._

The tears came then. Slowly, very slowly salty drops mixed with the water from the showers till they took the form of silent sobs that rocked her whole body causing her to collapse on the floor. Water continued to wash over her hunched form, the cold reaching somewhere deep within her.

...

It was past midnight but the Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry still sat in his chair in his office. The portraits of all the old headmasters were softly snoring in the background. They had learnt to sleep with the candles still burning in the brackets. The Headmaster hardly slept. Tonight was no different.

Severus Snape watched the timepiece that depicted the passing of yet another day. It was almost going to be a year now since he had killed his saviour, a year since the Dark Lord had ascended. The wizarding world had plunged into darkness, this time way denser than the previous time. And he was still waiting for the right time, waiting for this to end.

It was surprising that he noted the passing of days now. He had stopped watching for a new day since Lily died. One day was just the same as the next- void and lonely. But now, he found himself waiting, for her son, waiting to pass on the memories he had been holding on for years. But the reason of his sleeplessness was not Potter. It was his guilt, the very same fire that had been burning his soul since that Halloween night years ago. He never forgave himself for what he did- caused her death, and he would never forgive himself till the day he died.

Severus Snape was getting tired now. Tired of his mask, tired of the constant lies he lived. How much longer would he have to wait? How much longer would Potter take to finish whatever task Dumbledor had left him with? And, most importantly, would he get the chance to pass on the message the old Headmaster had asked him to?

The Dark Lord was getting more powerful by the day now. The dark forces were spreading all over, strangulating every bit of light they could find. Few remained in the open now, most preferring to go into hiding with their families. Only hours ago, Ginny Weasley had been called out of school under the pretext of a family emergency. He was no fool; the youngest Weasley female was not going to return in a hurry.

Sudden flare up in the floo drew his attention away from his musings. He turned around to watch the pitiful face of Lucius Malfoy bobbling in the grate. There was something sparkling in his grey eyes, a gleam of elation, and his senses were on alert immediately.

Anything that made Lucius Malfoy happy could not be good news.

"Severus," called the elder man excitedly as his long, now lustreless hair frayed around him in the gentle breeze of the fire.

"Lucius," he replied, casually walking over to the grate. "To what do I owe the pleasure of hearing from you? And at this hour no less?" he asked slightly amused.

The barely concealed excitement was pouring out of the Death Eater.

"I want to bring Draco home," he replied with ill concealed glee.

Snape raised a brow. "At this hour? May I ask, what is the urgency? It seems to be some kind of good news."

Lucius made a weak attempt to hide his excitement before snapping back, "Why do I have to provide a reason? I want my son home, right now!"

Snape looked him with disinterest, but when he replied there was ice in his words. "I am afraid that's not plausible right now. I cannot allow a student to leave school without a proper reason."

The pale old wizard looked like he had been slapped, "How dare you talk to me like that!" he bellowed and Snape turned his cold eyes on him.

"You'd better hold your voice, Lucius. In case you have forgotten, you do not enjoy the favours of our Lord anymore,"

Malfoy Senior looked mutinous. The gleam in his eyes simmered and after what seemed to be a major internal conflict, he opened his mouth. "Bella's goons found Potter's sidekick and Hermione Granger," he said haltingly, clearly displeased on having given away this priced piece of information.

"Really?" responded Snape without letting his mask drop which was not such a difficult task for him. However, he was feeling extremely annoyed.

 _What was Albus even thinking letting that buffoon take the task of protecting Hermione?_

"So what is Draco's role in this?" he asked and Lucius looked even more displeased.

"I told you, I need him," he answered in a gruff.

"Why Lucius? If I am not wrong, you have not informed the Dark Lord about it. Surely you know what he desires?"

Lucius' eyes snapped up to meet his dark ones.

"Granger is in my house. She was betrothed to Draco," he replied and when Snape arched his eyebrows he haltingly added, "...almost, but then her parents died. But that doesn't matter, the decision of their union was made a long time ago!" he added urgently as the mad gleam in his eyes intensified.

"So it's all about her inheritance then, isn't it?" grinned Snape and Lucius glared at him, hard.

"But how do you know she has not changed alliances yet?" he asked.

"She hasn't, she has been fooling the Order, and even if she has, the wedding can still happen," snapped the older man.

"Yes, she can marry Draco and then you will inherit her entire wealth. Even if she is lying and is killed, it won't matter..." he voiced aloud. "Impressive Lucius, very Slytherin of you. Just that, I thought you had enough gold in your vaults to worry about these petty things," he added.

"Things are not the same," huffed Lucius. "Now, get me Draco,"

"I will, tomorrow after his classes. But first, I want to see if she is indeed true to our cause," Snape replied, moving over to take his place back in his chair.

"You see Lucius, unlike you my intensions are not personal but completely dedicated to the Dark Lord's cause."

...

Hermione stepped outside with great caution, her footsteps muffled by the carpeted floor. It was way past midnight and the Manor was in total darkness. Her breath was deep and slow. She was not new to this place. For years she had been a visitor over the summer holidays, she knew this place in out. She released a soft breath. There was always a possibility of someone guarding the corridors but she had to keep her cover on. She could always say she was going to the Library.

She had spent so long in the shower that the cold had percolated to her very bones. But then something miraculous happened. Hermione didn't know where or how she found the strength to rise up, but she did. She had to get Ron out... or die trying. Suddenly her head was clear. If she died, the charm on the Chateau would break, because there would be no more owners. And Harry would be free. So, either she would return with Ron, or she would not return at all.

They had snatched away every she had- her family, her home. She would not lose Ron to them.

There was still no wand and undoubtedly the Manor was heavily warded. But she had to get Ron out of that cell and perhaps she could hide him off somewhere? Hermione was still not clear about it. But one thing she knew for sure- she had to see him. Her thoughts went back once more to his torture. It would have been so much better for him if she had not Rennervated him. But Hermione couldn't help it. She had to see the movement in his arms, no matter how feeble; she had to ensure he was still alive...

As she tiptoed out of the long hallway and passed three more corridors and a couple of staircases, the thundering in her heart increased. She was almost close to the dungeons now, just another turn... It was then she saw the movement.

The steps that began at the end of the last corridor glowed with a faint light. And there was definitely someone there, guarding the steps, someone with a silver hand...

She stood hidden behind a long tapestry weighing her options. She could go now and raise suspicion or she could wait till the early hours of the morning when Pettigrew would surely be drowsy after the night long guard. Maybe she could also nick his wand...

She took a few steps back, hiding further and melting with the darkness.

There was no telling how long she was hidden but it was almost when her tired eyes had begun to droop that there was another set of steps coming in from the other side. She pulled in her breath and pressed herself as far back against the wall as she could. The heavy steps got closer and her heart thudded madly in her chest. There was a very strong whiff of tobacco and firewhisky and the footsteps crossed her to reach the other end.

"Dolohov, about time," came one voice she recognised as Pettigrews.

"Yeah, anything?" asked the man named Dolohov.

"Nothing," replied the former with a gruff laugh, "She plays enough with them to make them pass out."

There was a combined laughter.

"Go off then," responded Dolohov after a while, and her heart sank. Change of guards. There was still a bit of murmur and quite unwillingly Hermione retraced back her steps quickly before Pettigrew crossed her hideout point.

She remained in the shadows as much as she could. But the path back to her room felt way too long. She had been driven by the thought of seeing Ron, but now there was nothing to look forward to. _But she had to think of something. They had to get away._ She chanted the words like a mantra; she needed this one thought to keep her going.

She was a couple of corridors away from hers when a voice made her stop. She hated that more than anything in the big wide world. Bellatrix Lestrange was talking to someone. With her palms sweating she inched closer to the door which was slightly ajar. But the silence of the Manor meant she could roughly make out the voices. It seemed the wicked witch was furiously arguing with someone.

"I know what I am doing Rod," she hissed dangerously.

"No, you are not, Bella! The Dark Lord wanted this to be kept in our vault!" admonished the man and Hermione wracked her brains to put a name to that voice.

"I will keep this at our Manor!" she screeched back but not too loudly. "This is our Lord's," she said as if in reverence, "It will grace our home!"

"You are being insane! Don't raise the Dark Lord's ire, Bella. You know what he does to those who go against his wishes!"

"He asked me to keep it safe! I will move it to our Manor! And who is brave enough to lay his feet on my Manor?" she hissed back.

"Don't be over confident! Lucius has lost favours, the Grangers died!" beseeched the man, and as Hermione's heart stopped hearing her parents' name, Bella gave out a bone chilling laugh.

"It was such a pleasure burning down that Mansion of theirs, wasn't it Rodolphus? Pity I missed _her_ though!"

"I heard she is here?"

"Yes," the witch spat venomously, "I can't wait to get my hands on her... No one takes my place, Rod... _No one_..."

...

He apparated beyond the gates of the Malfoy Manor in the wee hours of dawn, and quickly made his way towards the palatial building. Whatever little sleep he could have had had been snatched away by Lucius' declaration.

He was welcomed as usual by a bandaged elf and Lucius walked out of the parlour within minutes. The old man had not lost the sickening grin from the previous night.

No pleasantries were exchanged. He was swift to point out that he was only there to check on Granger and her supposed alliance with the Dark side. Soon a group of four were making their way towards the infamous Malfoy dungeons.

Hermione, his once favourite student, had given him only a curt nod and calculative eye, answering his queries sharply with quick retorts. To his immense surprise he had noted that her Occulemency skills were sharp enough to keep him away. It only meant grave news, either for the Dark Lord or Dumbledore, he could not decide who.

Finally he had expressed his desire to see Weasley and Hermione had asked permission to go back to her quarters stating that she had more important things to do than visit the stinking hole, but he had disagreed.

As they descended down the winding stairway, lurking behind the overexcited forms of Lucius and Bellatrix, he focused his attention on the young woman walking right ahead of him.

Hermione Granger was no stranger to him. He had known her from the time she was eleven. Outwardly she looked just the same, poised, stiff and impassive but he wanted to see her in presence of Weasley. Despite his immense disgust towards Dumbledor's two favourite students Potter and his best mate, he had to grudgingly accept that he was not afraid of Weasley betraying Potter. He was an arrogant prat but there was infinitely less chance of him jeopardizing Dumbledore's plans; he couldn't say the same for Hermione.

However, how much of Bellatrix's games the ginger could take without caving in was still a question.

The heavy cell doors were pushed open and he lit the torches he knew were placed inside. The young man that lay inside looked nothing like he remembered. In fact, had he not known him for years he would not even have recognised the mass of bloodied long limbs that lay at the foot of the wall.

The figure on the floor stirred at the noise and with immense effort pushed himself to a sitting position. The heavily bruised and scared face took in all his new guests, his eyes lingering just a heart beat more on the face of the girl of his age, and Snape turned around to watch her as well. Granger looked back expressionlessly. He watched Lucius notice him and shoot a wicked grin at Hermione's lack of reaction. However, it was that precise thing stirred the doubt in his heart.

Finally, Weasley's glance fell on him and those blue orbs got steadily bigger till he pushed himself further straight.

"YOU!" he screeched in a broken voice and coughed immediately. Bellatrix had done significant damage to his body but seemed like she had not even dented his shield.

"Eager today to give us some news, Weasel?" grinned Bellatrix running her dirty fingers over the long wood in her hands.

"You wish," he sneered. His voice was weak but harsh.

"Seems like the little boy needs a little more persuasion, Severus?" asked Bella in a sickeningly sweet voice and he shrugged his shoulders.

"No Cruciatus, Bella. He will be a waste if that mind goes insane," he advised softly.

Bellatrix raised up her brow, "Surprisingly the girl said the same thing yesterday,"

"You don't exactly have a reputation of playing nice with your toys Bella," chuckled Lucius in the background. For a minute he thought he saw Hermione flinch but then she was stoic as ever and he looked back at the boy.

Bellatrix cheered gleefully. A spell shot out from her wand and he was thrown back at the wall. Ronald collided heavily with the stone barrier with a sickening crunch and dropped on the floor in an untidy heap. The witch gave out a merry laugh watching as the boy took deep breaths that seemed to shake his whole body. But then, he pushed himself onto his knees and glared back. Bella let out a loud ugly cackle and shot another curse, this time definitely cracking a few bones.

And so it began...

Snape noticed Lucius move his eager eyes between him and the form of the bleeding boy in front of them.

Quite grudgingly he had to accept that Ronald Weasley was showing courage true to his house. His form still bore ample signs of the torture he had faced the previous day and yet, he was putting up a brave fight against Bellatrix's ingenious torture routine. So far, Weasley had faced spells that ranged from slicing his chest to those that made him choke up till his face almost became blue.

He, however, stopped Bellatrix each time she got close enough to killing him. Shoot out a spell that eased the choking boys breathing, "Killing him will only cut your pleasure and our objectives short, Bella," he admonished soundly as the witch gave him a dirty look.

Despite all her efforts, however, Bella could not damage the fire that shone in the boy's eyes- it just got brighter, fiercer.

But his main concentration was elsewhere. He turned slightly towards his favourite student, taking in her stoic form. She was indifferent as she watched, _way too inert_. It could either mean she hated Weasley more than he hated James Potter, _or..._

"What do you think?" asked Lucius once the game was over and he was inside the Malfoy's old business room.

"Hmm, interesting. My guess was correct all along. She indeed is the brightest of her age." He replied. The sickening smile on Lucius' face got wider.

"I'll send Draco," he added before taking his leave, and the old man chuckled wickedly behind him.

"By the way, Lucius, if you must know, Ronald Weasley did have an eye on Granger for a long time. She might not like him but Dumbledore placed her under _his_ guard, _for over a year_... A lot could have happened." He snickered wickedly before closing the door behind him.

...

Severus Snape apparated away but did not return to the school. Instead, he reached a small canopy of trees that had somehow survived the encroachment of muggle developers despite the passing decades. He had not visited this place in years.

Standing in a small clearing where once he had spent some of the most beautiful afternoons of his life, he allowed the mask to fall for once.

Dumbledore's words seem to come to him from beyond his grave. The wizen old man's ideas that _Love was the most powerful weapon, that Ronald Bilius Weasley was the right choice for her guard, that sometimes he wondered if they sort too soon..._

He had seen her deadpan eyes before she left for her room, they reminded him too much of his own image- of his guilt.

He could do nothing for them without risking his cover. Her only chance of rescue from the evil plot Lucius was brewing was putting a doubt in the old bastard's mind about her 'purity' to fit in the Malfoy family...

...

Draco walked into his father's room after a brief knock.

"You called for me, Father," he stated impassively looking at the man he once used to look up to.

"Draco, son," he responded enthusiastically, "I have a task for you. Don't fail me this time..."

* * *

 _ **A/N:**_ _I always try keeping the characters (not just the lead ones) true to their self in a story. I have to admit here that personally, I neither love Snape nor hate him all together. Apologies for the torture scenes but they had to get a little more detailed. I hate myself for putting Ron through this._

 _Please do review._


	51. A Little Help

**A/N:** **This story is getting steadily more and more difficult to write thanks to the extremely antagonising plot line I created. And that is the reason for the late updates. I can hardly sit and work on it in one stretch without giving myself a headache.**

 **Anyways, I have to mention this here that I know many of you reading this story are Draco fans and this is a fair warning that this chapter might offend you. However, what you have to remember is that I pull the characteristics from canon and hence Draco here is shady and grey toned. I am not going to make him a rebel or a redeemed person because it does not fit in with this story. His loyalties and actions are guided by selfish interests and the intention of saving his skin. I am not going into a discussion if that's a good trait or bad, that's just how his character is.**

 **All Character rights belong to JK Rowling and no profit is being made out of this.**

* * *

 **Chapter 50: A Little Help**

Hermione was sure she would not last very long. Standing next to the huge windows that stretched almost from the ceiling to the floor, she gazed unseeing at the open grounds ahead. Her knuckles were practically white as they clung onto the intricate iron vines while the long heavy curtains that remained perpetually closed now lay motionless having been pushed aside roughly.

The view outside was not very different from the one she had at home, large lawn and manicured gardens and eventually, huge boundary walls beyond which lay extensive woods. Dark clouds hung all over the place giving it a fitting feel of gloom.

Her breathing caused her chest to heave and fall, the only sign of movement and life while she stood inert inside her glorious cage. Freedom was slowly looking like a distant dream. The fire of hope that she had built in herself was slowly beginning to dwindle. After the morning's torture, the strength to fight, to live was beginning to slip down an abyss. There was little hope of any external help, and even with a stolen wand, she wasn't sure an escape would be possible for Ron. How he was still holding on she didn't know. And she didn't know how much strength he had left to go through anymore. All she knew was that she had none left; neither strength nor hope.

Who would have thought that after those intense days of planning, and risking their lives over and over again, their last days would come to this- stuck inside and bleeding, and finally dying in the hands of these minions of the Dark Lord? What was the worth of all the knowledge she had amassed? What was the point of being labelled the brightest of her age when nothing she knew could save him? What was the worth of living this lie at all? Wouldn't it be more prudent to tell them the truth? Tell them that she was a traitor too, tell them that she deserved half of every spell that touched Ron, tell them that her blood should be spilt as well if only to give him an ounce of relief for once...

But it couldn't be that simple, could it?

Her confession would be the proverbial final nail on Ron's coffin. And she was not ready to lose him- not to them, not to death, not to anything. Some would call it brave and hopeful perhaps, but she knew what it really was- selfishness.

The sound of the heavy doors opening shook her out of her painful thoughts. Every time someone entered through those, they brought the news of another round of Bellatrix's games. She felt a strange sort of numbness hazing her brain at the sound, and her fingers automatically clasped around the metals harder, perhaps in a natural instinct to stay standing.

 _Not anymore, not again... Please..._

Her lungs felt restrained in her chest. Her ever active brain had long stopped murmuring instructions in her ears. Perhaps it had realised that no matter how sharp her wit, she needed a beating heart to stay alive. And that part of her body was currently whimpering in some dark corner, scared to death about the person who held it.

"Hermione,"

It was the voice that made her turn; fear, doubt and instinct all kicking in simultaneously.

"Draco..." she breathed, somehow managing to hold out the horror from her voice and slowly turned around to take in the appearance of the man who stood at the door.

He looked nothing like the image her brain conjured from her memories. Draco was definitely taller but also thinner in sickly sort of way. The blonde hair looked dull and stuck to his forehead, eyes were sunken deep inside their sockets, and the familiar smirk and arrogance were now a long lost story.

"Good to see you alive," he murmured and without another word, closed the door before turning around to face her once more. In the light that streamed in through the open window, she thought she saw a flicker of anguish but it vanished before she could be sure.

"I didn't know you were home," she asked, a deep sense of doom triggering at his sight- _This was not right._

"I wasn't, I was called," he replied in an emotionless voice as his haunting grey eyes took in her face more conscientiously. It bothered her. Standing in front of her was not the boy she had known for years; there was something gloomy and unhealthy about him. _And_ , her brain reminded her soundly, _he was almost a murderer, the one who had almost killed Katie, Ron and Dumbledore_... _Draco had almost killed Ron..._

His presence kicked in some sort of survival instinct in her, and despite all her previous thoughts she found her mind furiously working on the possible reasons for his presence.

He could have been called to take part in Ron's torture- for all she knew this could be some sort of dark indoctrination ritual for the young Death Eaters. He could have been called to keep an eye on her, or for them to decide about her version of the truth- after all, Draco knew her way more closely than Bellatrix or even Lucius. There could also be something else altogether.

"Really? Why?" she asked feigning only mild curiosity.

He did not bother to reply instead concentrated on watching her just as before.

"You look different," he declared after a while, his voice just as emotionless as before.

"So do you," she retorted carefully.

Standing in front of her was the man who had once been a friend and an ally. But now he was a part of the world that was nothing more than a threat to all that she held dear- Ron. His presence had scared her first but after the first shock had died, she could now see a faint ray of hope.

 _If only..._

"So how was it? Being held by the Order for so many days? I heard Weasel was your assigned guard," he asked with a sly grin that caused lines to form at the corner of his eyes. The whole thing looked strained and forced.

"How does it feel to know that at sixteen you already have three attempted murders under your belt?" she replied back.

"And failed attempts too," she added as an afterthought noticing how his already pale face lost every trace of colour at her words, and the ever-there mask dropped for almost a minute before he arranged his face into a neutral expression once more. But Hermione had seen what she wanted to.

He pulled out his wand and cast a locking and silencing charm at the door while her eyes were inexplicably drawn to that priced piece of wood.

"I'm sorry that Weasley didn't die, you would have managed an escape a lot sooner if he did, wouldn't you?"

She looked away before he finished, remembering painfully vividly the events of that night when she had almost lost Ron.

"Perhaps..." she said once she had found her voice.

"But you got Dumbledore killed, didn't you? The Dark Lord would have been much pleased, wasn't he?" she inquired back making sure to pull up her own mask and watch him carefully. This time, it took him much longer to get rid of the shadows that hung in his eyes, and he eventually looked away. By the time he looked back at her she had already found the clink in his armour.

"Are you sure you are loyal to the Dark Lord's cause yourself, Hermione? Or is this just a game to see Weasley tortured? Make him pay back perhaps? What did he exactly do while you were under his guard?"

His words were carefully chosen to taunt and instigate, and despite knowing it all she could barely hold back her anger. As she concentrated on her breathing and directed her efforts on not losing this battle he coaxed her on.

"Does he still fancy you? Bet he tried didn't he? That pathetic excuse of a wizard..."

She lost it at that.

"Pathetic excuse of a wizard, eh Draco? Yes, a failed guy like you would know all about being pathetic, wouldn't you? Do you think I don't see how your family has lost favours? And here you stand, a meek soldier trying to do exactly what may I ask?"

There was a brief minute when she thought she had blown up her only chance as anger flooded those grey eyes, but soon those stiff shoulders hung and fury was replaced by fear.

He walked away and sat at the plush settee, hunched and gripping his hair in his fists. He looked worn out and tired but she could not bring herself to show him any sympathy.

"Are you really loyal to the Dark Lord's cause?" he asked in a very quiet voice and she moved closer on instinct.

"Are you not?" she questioned him back taking a seat next to him.

"I- I am," he muttered but his demure spoke the unspoken.

"Are you questioning your choice, Draco?" she asked softly making sure she sounded caring rather than questioning.

He gulped audibly.

"N-No,"

She paused for a while before trying again.

"How does it feel sharing your home with the Dark Lord himself?" she inquired casually. They might be as well sitting in the Slytherin common room having a friendly chat but the stakes were so very high on this.

Once again the mask dropped as he let out a mirthless chuckle. "Do you really want to know?"

She took in a few deep breaths. And, after what took a considerable amount of strength, placed her arm gently over his. Physical display of affection or care was not common in their society but her instinct told her it was the right thing to do. Draco watched her hand for a while and then looked up to meet her eyes questioningly.

"We used to be friends," she said. The sadness around her words was way less faked than she cared to admit.

"A lot has changed since then," he replied.

"Why are you here, Draco?" she asked again and noticed the faint hitching of breath.

"I can't tell you,"

"You are following orders, aren't you?" she deduced carefully and when he did not answer, took it to be a confirmation.

"Whose orders, Draco?" she asked again.

"Father's," he replied grimly.

She took a few minutes to process that, realising that even without the Dark Lord's presence, something sinister was coming towards them and fast. Closing her eyes she tried thinking of Ron's face without the many scars they bore now. But it was almost impossible. Her brain conjured the image of a bloodied face and she opened her eyes sharply.

"How does it feel to plot someone's death, Draco?" she asked, allowing a faint hint of disgust to leak into her words. It was a gamble and a big one at that, but there was no other choice.

She felt him stiffening under her palm and feeling a little braver decided to push on.

"How does it feel to have the dark mark etched on your skin? How does it feel to know that you helped kill the one wizard the Dark Lord feared?"

His stiffening was unmistakable.

"You don't understand," he replied after a long pause.

"What don't I understand?" she asked removing her hand from his; her patience was beginning to run thin now.

"You don't understand what it is to be forced to kill... You don't understand... He threatened to murder my entire family if I didn't do it. He would have killed me!" he cried softly and she found the gap to drive in the sword deeper. It was all or nothing now.

" _I_ don't understand is it?" she laughed bitterly and noticed his eyes take her by surprise.

"I thought you said you sympathise with the Dark Lord's cause," he asked a little tentatively.

"I thought you said the same," she challenged back.

"You have no fucking clue, Hermione!" he hissed getting up and pacing furiously.

"You have no fucking clue what it is to be forced to kill, to be a prisoner in your own house! You have no idea how it is to be scorned on by lesser wizards because you have lost his favours. You have no clue what it is to come back home and see people getting killed day after day!" he added in a low voice and she stood up to face him, anger blazing in her own eyes.

"Don't you dare say I don't understand, Draco!" she said in a threatening whisper, losing her grasp of control finally but forcing herself to keep her voice low despite his spell.

"He killed my entire family," she hissed as anger and hurt burnt her eyes, " Razed my home to the ground, _destroyed every last bit of my past_ ..." she struggled to keep her voice steady as months and months of pent up agony threatened to render her speechless.

"I couldn't give my parent a decent burial because there was _nothing_ left of them to bury and you say- _I don't understand_?!" She stopped because white hot fury was causing heat rise up her veins, and that coupled with sheer exhaustion was making her sway on the spot. Everything from the past two days bombarded her senses almost making her scream out and thrash around. But she held on; that weak side of hers was not for Draco to see.

"You think you have it bad, Draco?" she asked accusingly.  
" _You_ started all this by helping kill Dumbledore! _You_ got the Death Eaters inside the school! The Headmaster asked you to confide in him didn't he?" she asked through gritted teeth. "But you didn't! You didn't despite knowing that only _he_ had the power to hold the Dark Lord back!"

"I DINT KNOW!" he yelled back dropping his mask altogether. Two ghostly eyes looked back at her for a moment before he collapsed back on the settee. "I didn't know it would be this bad...I-" his eyes looked tormented and tired as they looked pleadingly into hers.

"I want out..." he breathed in a watery voice.

"Hah! Create a mess and then call for help, how typical, Draco. You pulled all of us in this and now you tell me you want out?" she barked forcing herself to keep cool and not blow away this chance.

His grey eyes took in her face. "You are lying to them, aren't you?" he said in almost a whisper. "Are you with the Order now? Or perhaps you are doing it to keep Weasley alive?"

She met his eyes defiantly.

"You are so dead, Granger." He said with a bitter smirk, shaking his head.

She chuckled a little mirthlessly at his words. "I am not a coward like you, Draco,"

"You are being dumb, he'll kill you!"

"And why should I bother? Living the way you are, doesn't seem to be very inviting," she added.

"At least I am alive! And...The reality is there is no way out. He'll kill us all if I even try, my parents and me," he responded fearfully.

She laughed aloud this time till tears formed in her eyes and her voice choked out.

"You keep telling yourself you are better than the rest, don't you Draco? But look at yourself now, reduced to a weakling," she scorned and his eyes narrowed into slits.

"You better be careful, Hermione. All I have to do is leak out your truth, and then, you and that pathetic, mangy boyfriend of yours will both be rotting in the dump," he hissed.

"That's all mighty Draco Malfoy can do, go running to his daddy," she taunted, "What a coward!"

"STOP CALLING ME A COWARD!"

"You _are_ a coward, Draco! You almost became a murderer to save your own skin! Tell me, have you even seen the man you just called 'pathetic and mangy'? Have you seen how they are torturing him in your own dungeons, Draco? If you have not, I suggest you go and see him once." She paused and noted with pride the look of shock that marked the pale face.

"You have always mocked him for the state of his clothes and their poverty," she growled angrily, "And you think, you are so great because of all the gold your ancestors have piled in your vaults? I dare you, Draco Malfoy, go and see him once. See if you are even half the man Ronald Weasley is. Go and see if you can stand in front of that 'pathetic' wizard even with all your riches in Gringotts. Have you seen what they are doing to him- especially your aunt?" She stared at him hard and he lowered his eyes.

"He has put his life on the line for this fight, Draco, risked his entire family!" Hermione could not hold in the pride she felt for Ron and a couple of tears leaked out which she hastily wiped before Draco saw them.

"And in case you have forgotten- with or without a fortune, he is still a pureblood. You complain about your life, go and see what he is living through. But despite everything, I bet they won't be able to break him! He'll die before he betrays his friends before he betrays the cause,"

"If I didn't know better I would say you are in love with Ronald Weasley, Hermione," he said finally meeting those eyes. It was a challenge and she accepted it.

"Yes..." she exhaled softly; a faint shock was visible in his eyes.

"So, this is a lie to keep him alive? Pity it won't help much. Aunt Bella has a nasty reputation of breaking her toys soon after she gets them."

She looked at him hard weighing her options.

"Yes Draco, I love Ron and I lied to keep him alive. I had to do something. I _had_ to try."

"So, what are you going to do now?"

"I'll escape with him," she replied with more conviction than she felt.

He laughed at that, a silent bitter sort of laughter that made him look sicklier.

"And how will you do that may I ask?"

"With your help, of course." That shut him up.

"Y-You must be mad! He'll kill me!"

"Help us, Draco...You know very well only one person can stop this and he needs us... You said you wanted out." She reasoned carefully without sounding too needy.

"I said but I'd rather live in this mess than become Aunt Bella's next toy."

"You are really pathetic, aren't you Draco?" she said disgusted and his eyes blazed at her words.

"Stop it, Hermione. Don't forget, you are still at my mercy. All I'll need to do is tell them of your deceit." He hissed through his teeth.

"Go ahead, do it then," she replied calmly looking straight at him.

"Tell them Draco," she urged, "I am really very exhausted," she said with a tired smile that hurt her muscles.

"Do you think I don't know what will happen? They'll kill Ron..." she paused looking unseeing at the dresser at the far end of the room and then began again.

"They'll kill him and torture me in his place. I won't survive very long, but I sure won't tell them anything. And then, hopefully, they'll kill me too. Good riddance, right?" she turned to face him.

"But what will _you_ do Draco? You'll have the blood of two more people on your hands then. You'll know that you could have stopped, made right some amount of your wrongs, but you did not. You'll know, there will be no one but yourself to blame for all eternity because you threw away a chance to help put an end to this –once again. You'll be able to live with that, won't you?" she asked softly.

Minutes passed, perhaps hours before he pulled himself up and walked, soft sounds of his footsteps breaking the silence that has ensued post her words. He stopped however when he reached the bed. He glanced at the huge structure and then seemed to struggle a bit before turning towards her again.

"Father wishes us to wed," he said simply and she gasped; his mask was back and so was the emotionless voice.

"He wanted me to find out if you are still a virgin, or if Weasley has soiled you already." He stated looking straight at her and she looked away because she was so disgusted with everything he was saying.

"I was here to find out... if you were still worthy of being wed to the Malfoy heir. If not, he would claim your properties and gold for the violation of the laws of our 'engagement', otherwise, we would wed and," he shrugged, "he would still indirectly own your wealth through me."

She waited with a madly throbbing heart as he turned towards the bed she had not even touched.

"I am going to tell him I deflowered you, and he will pretend to be absolutely mortified and suggest our wedding. You know how the rules of the engagement work right? Since you were promised to me the engagement doesn't break if I take your virginity as long as it's me who marries you. It's all a sham, but the laws of the Pureblood society goes down centuries and no one will be able to deny it, especially now that the order and ways of the ancient times are once again being set as the basis of the new world." She stared at him, horrified.

"B-But we were never formally engaged!" she spat out finally.

"Says who, Hermione? He has already poured in enough gold to one of his secret associates in the Ministry to get a fraudulent contract ready, with all the clauses of course." He glanced at her horror-struck face expressionlessly and continued.

"You still have time because nothing can happen till the Dark Lord is back. I am not sure but he has been gone for a while, and if you really wish to escape, the sooner you do it the better it will be. Don't take too long and figure out how you are going to escape with that boyfriend of yours. I will be of no further help."

Her head was working furiously. This was worse than she thought. If Lucius took in her property the Chateau would begin to identify the Malfoys as family. And although they wouldn't know of its existence and location, but the protection would be seriously compromised.

"How will we escape?" she breathed out softly to herself.

"I don't know and I won't risk my neck to save you either. All I can tell you is, do it today while Aunt Bella is away at her Manor. It will be slightly tricky with her here."

...

He sat on the couch in his room watching the ceiling but not watching it at all while various articles from his pouch and Hermione's bag lay scattered around him.

Harry was not really a stranger to loneliness but now he felt empty and void. He looked at the various articles and specifically the sword and let out a deep sigh. Was all this struggle and fight worth it at all? The silence of the surrounding was almost suffocating. He wanted his friends back, he wanted Hermione back and more than that, he wanted Ron back. Ron, who was silently fighting his own demons and whom he had accused and doubted just like the Horcrux wanted him to.

He grasped his aching head in his hands and forced himself to think. But just like his surrounding his thoughts seemed to have paused too. He had tried everything so far, hadn't he? He had tried apparating out and had already shot all spells he could at the unrelenting wall that was holding him hostage. But nothing, not even a scratch had appeared on it.

His empty stomach grumbled and once again he ignored it. How on earth would he find Ron and Hermione? Who knew where they were? Who knew if they were even alive?... He pushed the last thought away pulling himself forcefully off the couch to stand once more on the balcony.

Looking at the far edge of the grounds his eyes were automatically drawn to the spot he had last seen his friends. He shoved his hand into his pocket and gripped Hermione's wand tightly. He had to get out of this place; he had to find Ron and Hermione. They were his strength and motivation. They had gone through an awful lot of mess to get so far and he hoped with all his might that they would get off this too.

Several hours passed before he came back again. Nothing once more... Not one of his spells penetrated the wall which remained rock solid as ever. He had walked all around the perimeter this time with an invisible wall blocking his way, and while he could see outside, the protection kept him firmly within the limits.

With frustration and hopelessness biting through his skin like cold frost, he sank down on the floor with a loud shriek that reverberated around him over and over again.

"RON!" he screamed in hopeless want of his best mate answering from wherever he was, but no answer came. The name only echoed off the walls for a while before vanishing into the silence. One by one he called for each one who was dear to him, hoping against hope for someone to hear him, hoping for someone to answer back till all names dearest to him were exhausted. Then he called for classmates and each and everyone he knew...

So far invested he was in calling out and so tired of the lack of response except his own voice returning back to him that he almost missed the loud crack of apparition behind him.

"Master?"

He turned around with a loud gasp and removing his glasses rubbed them clean on his t-shirt vigorously before putting it on and taking in the small figure that looked back at him.

"Kreacher?! KREACHER! KREACHER!" he yelled exhilarated and scrambled ahead to hold the aged creature to ensure he was not hallucinating.

"Master looks sick!" the old elf exclaimed as Harry held his thin arms in his.

"No it's all fine, really!" he cried with a broken smile.

"Look Kreacher, can you take me out of this place?" he asked urgently.

"Yes, Kreacher can," the elf replied still running his greying orbs over his face.

"Then take me out of this place, I need to find Ron and Hermione," he added urgently getting up and shoving selected items inside Hermione's bag.

"Kreacher not knowing where Master Weasley and Miss Granger are, Master," he answered sadly and Harry paused remembering the last instances when he had seen his friends disappear. _How was he going to track them?_

"I don't know either... But I've got to get out of this place, I have to try," he said resuming his earlier task more hurriedly.

"Master has not eaten, Kreacher will first fix a meal," replied the old elf and before Harry could stop him, disappeared again with a crack.

He was almost about to call back the creature again when Kreacher materialised with a stunned look.

"Kreacher, I-," he began but his words died on his lips as he heard the voice he had been desperately hoping for.

" _Harry..._ "

It was the faintest of whisper and a shiver ran down his spine at the way it sounded. He looked fearfully at the elf who was looking equally shocked as he extended his thin hands and opened his tiny palm to reveal a small object that seemed to be vibrating.

 _Ron's Deluminator._

* * *

 _ **A/N:**_ **Thanks to each one of you for reading. I would really love to know what you thought of Hermione/Draco interaction, because honestly, it took me quite a while to get it the way I wanted.**

 **This story was named In Search of Hermione for a reason. It was her search to find her true identity. She has already come a long way from where she started but soon, she will truly find herself in more ways than one. I had mentioned three chapters because I thought you all were getting tired reading such a long story. But, I hope you all will be patient a little longer so that I can unfold it in the manner I deem best. I won't rush it to an ending and the sequel will still follow.**

 **Lots of love.**


	52. Rescue part I: Stealth

**A/N:** I haven't updated in weeks and I am truly apologetic about it. Life has been way too busy and exhausting and I am only starting on this today (14th Aug) and it's almost midnight now.

 **All Characters are sole property of JKR, no profit is made from this story.**

* * *

 **Chapter 51: Rescue part I: Stealth**

Harry wasn't sure if it would work but the strange blue light that glowed like a wispy ball was still right there, in the middle of the room, and pulling him to itself like a powerful enchantment.

He looked once more at the Deluminator that lay peacefully in his palm while his half-packed belongings lay forgotten on the table. The light reminded him of something, but his sleep-deprived and fatigued brain struggled to place a finger on it.

"Is that a Portkey, Master?" inquired the elf from somewhere behind him, and he looked around at the curious elf, having momentarily forgotten about Kreacher's presence.

"Yeah, I think it is, Kreacher," he replied slowly.

His voice sounded determined and focused, and he closed his fingers over the small object that belonged to Ron with a newfound strength pulsing in his heart. The foggy images in his head were slowly getting sharper, crystal clear in fact. Glancing once at the blue light just to ensure it was still present, he turned around to face Kreacher.

"Stay here, I might need your help again," he instructed.

Driven by instinct and head that was working more frantically than ever,he pulled out the silvery cloak he had inherited from his father; one flush, and he was invisible to even his own eyes. Carrying nothing more apart from the moleskin pouch that contained a few of his prized articles and Hermione's wand, he walked purposefully towards the ball of light. His thoughts were on two of his best friends as the glowing blue orb floated towards him and entered his heart; his immediate thought was how it was pleasantly cool, and had a calming effect clearing his head further.

He concentrated on Ron's voice that had long faded and turned on the spot.

...

The place he had Apparated to was dark, cold and stinky. The pleasant and soothing sensation in his chest had given way to dread and he hoped that somehow was an indication that the Portkey had delivered him exactly where he was supposed to be. All his senses more alert than he had been in the past couple of days, he stepped cautiously ahead. There was absolutely no doubt that it was some sort of a dungeon and the fear for his friends increased manifolds. There was nothing here but silence and darkness. But if Ron had called him here, they had to be somewhere around.

A very deep and dark image formed in his heart, and he gripped the wand harder.

 _He wasn't late, was he?_

Harry swallowed hard and forced the thought aside. He debated about lighting his wand, but that would give away his position to anyone who might be present on guard duty. After all, he had only his invisibility cloak that gave him an element of surprise against the enemy which quite possibly was stronger in both number and strength. He had a half-formed notion that he was currently inside one of Voldemort's dark dens, and if that was indeed true, finding Ron and Hermione was only half the problem.

With his ears trained for the smallest of sounds, he carefully extended his arm to gauge the size of the room. All he met was air, so he shifted to his left as noiselessly as he could, keeping one arm stretched for any intrusion, another gripping Hermione's wand tightly.

Long minutes passed, and he had crossed several feet from where he had started. Keeping his palm pressed on the wall which he had finally found, and using it as a guide he walked ahead slowly, prepared any minute for some attack, some lurking danger, or some sign of his friends.

Their names were on his lips struggling for an escape but he kept the urge in check only because he would be of no help if he got caught.

The silence was deafening, and he forcefully pushed away the fear that increased with more of empty space he found. Perhaps they had been shifted elsewhere, he hoped desperately; the other alternative was excruciatingly painful even to think about.

Both his body and thoughts seized as he heard the distinct sound of approaching footsteps. Pressing himself flat against the wall he trained his ears to gauge the source of the sound. But that was not necessary.

Soon a very thin stream of light penetrated below what could only be the cell door, and before long, the heavy metal was pushed on its hinges to expose a tall thin figure; he paused with one arm on the door and another gripping his wand tightly.

Even with the light source behind the new arrival, and being able to see nothing more than a silhouette that cast a long shadow on the cell floor- Harry knew that figure well enough.

...

Draco scrunched his nose in distaste as the hint of sweat, bile and blood hit his nostrils. His hand at the cold heavy door shook a little and for once, he even considered turning around. But Hermione had struck something inside him with her words. He still had no intentions of helping her escape or aid Weasley in any way. That would be impossibly stupid. Granger could keep her Gryffindorish speeches to herself; he knew better than to do anything that would make the Dark Lord or even Bellatrix pay him more attention than the next insignificant new recruit. For once, he was better off being as invisible as he could and he intended to nothing that would put the limelight on him. But that was not all. While he had no plans of risking his head by assisting Hermione in her grand plans, he did wish for her to succeed. He wanted this to end. And that was what had drawn him to this cell: he had to see for himself if Ronald was still alive.

He should have been used to this by now; after all, this wasn't the first time he was going to witness the effect of his Aunt Bella's passion for dark curses, and this certainly wasn't going to be the last. But no matter how vehemently he denied it, this was different. He had seen people being killed, sometimes in one clean stroke where the shock of it still lingered in the eyes of the dying, while at others it was downright ugly- like when Nagini, Greyback or Bellatrix were involved. But more often than not, they were strange unknown faces- not this time, however. Ronald Weasley was more than familiar. Yes, he was a constant nuisance, he and his best mate- the Saint Harry Potter. A bleak part of him could not help whoop in exhilaration at the thought of the ginger having received a fitting payback for those long school years. But that was a smaller part. The larger one was queasy. From what he had heard from his father and Hermione, Weasley was putting up a tough fight despite Aunt Bella's numerous efforts. He hated to admit that no matter how bad shape the boy might be in physically, Hermione was right. Draco had no intention, strength or wish to be at the receiving end of Bellatrix's curses, not for anything, not for anyone: he'd rather do her bidding. It was stupid to allow her to get into her favourite pastime but honestly, would she relent even if Ronald gave away all the secrets of his best mate? He was still marked for death but this was just making it worse. An utter stupid Olaf if he ever saw one. But he wasn't complaining. If Weasley's stupid bravery helped in getting them all out of this mess, why complain? Better him than Draco...

Once again he contemplated turning away, but there was some deep unhealthy attraction drawing him inside the cell. He wanted to see the scarred and broken form of Ronald as much as he wished to escape. It was like the lure of a rotting wound that drew your eyes towards it no matter how ghastly the sight.

He gripped the wand harder once more, and pointing it towards one of the torches, lit it with a soft incantation. The darkness of the room subsided marginally, and he looked around the claustrophobia-inducing room before his eyes fell on the figure that lay a few spaces ahead on his left.

Ron Weasley was lying on his stomach, and Draco continued to watch, sickeningly mesmerised at the ginger's bloodied form, concentrating on his back to make out even the tiniest amount of rising and fall. He had no desire to get closer to the man who seemed to be lying in a dried up patch of his own blood and bile, but he had to know if Ron was alive. So he took a few hesitant steps ahead.

Before he even knew what happened, a blast caused his wand to go flying out of his hand and his back collided painfully with the stones at the far corner of the room. As he pushed himself up, his terrified heart thundering away, throat choked and unable to find his voice, he looked around for the source but found nothing more than a half-dead body. The next instant a red light flashed from somewhere close to the lying form of Ronald and then there was nothing but darkness.

...

Harry looked away from the unconscious form of Draco Malfoy, fury and hate pumping in equal measure in his veins. The cell, now visible in the light from the torch high up in the bracket, was solid stone without even a tiny gap for ventilation. He was sure it was magically sealed as well. The door was slightly ajar, and while no noise came in from outside, he was sure he could not possibly walk out with Ron and just walk out through the main hall.

Taking a few precious moments to chalk out a basic Modulus Operandi, he moved to the door while still hidden under the cloak. The long narrow corridor was lined on either side by closed doors, and on the far right part of it, a spiral staircase was visible. On the left, there was nothing more than two more doors and then a flat space of the wall.

He hurried back quickly and denying his natural instinct to rush to Ron, moved towards the unconscious form of Draco instead. Fury raged at the sight of the blonde, and barely restricting the urge to physically harm the unresponsive man, he levitated the limp body and moved him over to the far end corner of the room and out of sight. Nothing would raise the alarm more than seeing the stunned self of the Malfoy heir in what he was now sure a part of his own Manor.

Once the blonde was shifted away, he moved quickly over to his best mate. He had been next to Ron ever since the ginger's inert form had been visible in the light from the torch, and now, as he bent down closer to place a hand on his best mate's bloodied chest, fury mixed in with pain and dread. It was not difficult to guess what they had been using Ron for, his body had ample signs to show for it. The face was almost unrecognisable with a bruised eye and blacked jaw being just the tip of the iceberg. The worse parts were the gashes that ran down his cheeks; they looked like someone had pushed something sharp into the skin and intentionally ripped it apart.

"Ron..." Harry called heavily, and placed a hand delicately on his head, hoping he wasn't touching a sore spot. Ron did not seem to have heard him at all. Removing his cloak aside he moved closer and sat on his knees. Carefully pushing Ron up, Harry positioned himself such that Ron's head lay on his lap before calling out once more.

He had to forcefully stop himself from shaking his best mate hard because, Merlin knew, Ron's predicament was making him very worried. Ron was burning up and almost scorching his skin through his jeans. He had to call a couple of more times before the ginger stirred and Harry released a breath he didn't even realise he had been holding.

Ron opened his eyes marginally, but even that seemed to take immense effort, and for a minute, Harry was petrified that Ron might not recognise him at all.

But that moment passed as Ron took several breaths through his mouth before his lips moved and eyes lit up with recognition.

"Ha- Harry?" he exhaled with immense effort.

He was so relieved he could scream, instead, he conjured a goblet of water and brought it to Ron's lips. Looking towards the door and training his ears hard for any sound of threat, he helped Ron lift himself up and take a sip. Ron choked and spluttered, and water dribbled down the sides of his mouth. Finally, he lay back, tired with the simplest exercise.

"We have to get you out," Harry added quickly. It was hard to tell how long Ron would remain conscious.

Ron opened his mouth to speak but exhaled with difficulty a few times, his chest heaving before he closed his mouth and shut his eyes. He licked his dry lips and forced open his eyes once more.

"Her... Mione," he breathed with difficulty while forcing himself up, and Harry held him on without interrupting because he could see in Ron's eyes that he needed to give this information.

"She... sa-safe... p-pretending," he stopped once more to draw in more air, "pretend-ing... t-to be on their s-side," he added with difficulty, "we... we pla-planned before," he coughed. "F-find h-her," he pleaded before collapsing back.

"Yes, Ron, I'll find her," he promised, wondering how he had doubted Ron at all. At least, this meant Hermione was safe. He glanced at the partly opened door and the light in the bracket making a quick decision.

"Hold on Ron," he said and gently placed Ron back on the floor, ignoring with all his might the large dried up dark spot around his best mate. Moving quickly, he pulled on the cloak and extinguished the light, shutting the door softly and cast a silencing charm.

There was no way he could take Ron along in his search for Hermione. The only option was to send Ron to safety first and keep Ron's disappearance hidden to avoid raising an alarm. And it was not just Hermione, if his visions had told him anything Olivander was here too and perhaps even Luna. There could be more. He turned to his best mate once more, hating Voldemort even more with every passing second. He and his Death Eaters had taken enough from him already; he wasn't going to give them the pleasure of snatching away his best mate, his brother.

Ron needed immediate medical attention and for that, he needed to find Hermione and fast.

He had almost called out for Kreacher when a heavy set of footsteps sounded in the corridor and Harry was once again forced to stand back. His heart drummed so hard that he could almost hear it.

 _What if they were coming to torture Ron again?_

Ron would not survive another spell in the condition he was in, and Harry was sure he wasn't going to stand and watch, to hell with keeping his cover.

There was the sound of some other door opening, and someone whimpered before the door was slammed back, someone old by the sound of it. And this time, the footsteps came closer and he gripped his wand hard enough to render his knuckles white, ready to curse at the slightest sign of any danger to Ron.

Once more the light cast a shadow, a shorter, wider one this time, and a familiar man moved in.

...

Pettigrew flicked pieces of meat from his teeth using his fingernails and moved in casually. Years of living as a rat had made him immune to stenches and filth in general, and that served to his benefit now that he had been assigned the lowly job of guarding and feeding the filthy prisoners, most of who were either half dead or severely bruised and smelly. The boy was worse than many he had seen. It bothered him little that once he had been cared for by the same person; cared for well if he cared to admit in fact.

With his wand stuffed inside his cloak, and holding an old, grimy plate that had a stale piece of bread and some even more smelly cheese, he made his way inside with the practised ease of someone who had been doing this for a while. He did not care to light the torch; there was nothing in here to see, no one could possibly break through the enchantments and enter without permission. Moreover, the cell doors were spelled and could be locked just by shutting them close, post which, the only way of opening them would be from outside. And the cell itself was an airtight prison, magiked to allow enough air circulation to keep the one inside breathing, that and nothing more. There was no scope of escape as the Manor boundary itself was sealed to allow automatic access and exit only to the ones with the Dark Mark. Needless to say, anti-apparition wards were set all over the property. It made his monotonous task of guarding a mere formality, to him at least.

He scratched his stubbled cheeks roughly as he walked to where the boy lay. All he had to do was shake him awake, throw the plate in front of him and walk away. And then, he could go back to sitting on the steps leading to the dungeons and have his smoke in peace. Perhaps he could even take a few sips from the bottle of the high label mead he had stolen from Lucius and stashed away behind a particular tapestry.

The boy was lying awkwardly on his side. From the smell, he could sense that the wounds were beginning to get nasty. This one was strong, he had heard Bellatrix say that herself. She was all too eager to break him but if experience told him anything, with the kind of injuries he had, the boy would not last very long unless treated. But that wasn't his headache, was it?

"Oi! Get up," he barked in a bored voice, and when there was no response, kicked him on the leg to wake him up.

However, something absolutely unexpected happened the moment his foot touched the unconscious figure.

Sharp, prickly pain erupted in his leg, and he fell flat on his face, realising a minute too late that the Stinging Jinx was rapidly disfiguring his legs and causing considerable pain in its wake. The plate had fallen out of his hand at some point during his fall, and the crash of it died along with his shriek to disappear into the silence of the room. His silvery hand fumbled inside his robes but another curse, an Affligo this time, hit him hard into his bowels and he doubled up in pain, trying unsuccessfully to get a hold of his weapon. He needed to transform and he needed his wood for it. He had only a minute of exhilaration when his silvery had found the needed object before a rough, and slightly weak hand wrestled it out of his grip. He could have overpowered the boy easily, but a barge of Affligo cast mercilessly on him was making the not too difficult task almost impossible. Soon, the wood was snatched away, and he made a futile affect to scream before a stunning spell hit him right at his heart and his muscles seized with the shock. Then, there was nothing...

...

Harry took off the cloak, staring with the deepest loathing at the dirty, bulky figure that lay next to Ron. He had planned to physically overtake and torture the information about Hermione out of him. But he lost it the moment Wormtail kicked Ron, and pure, unadulterated rage took over. He wanted to hurt and hurt the man hard- this very same filthy bastard who had lost him his parents and was now daring to touch Ron.

Uncontrolled coughing from Ron pulled him out of his rumination, and he collapsed next his friend once more, and touched him gently on the back, worried about hurting him by accidently touching a raw wound.

"We have to get you out," he said urgently, noticing that Ron had at least managed to grab Pettigrew's wand during the struggle.

"H-How?" Ron heaved.

"Kreacher?" called Harry softly, furiously hopeful for his plan to work. If the elf could not break through the anti-apparition wards here, they would be doomed. However, the elf materialised with a sharp crack, making Harry heave a sigh, glad that he had silenced the cell before.

"Take Ron back to the Chateau," he instructed quickly. "You can do that right?"

Kreacher nodded solemnly.

"And, can you heal him?" he asked hopefully while the elf looked at Ron's form, horror reflecting in his large orbs.

"Kreacher can heal little things, not much help," he muttered softly and Harry's heart fell.

"It's okay, do whatever you can to heal him, and wait for me to call you again," he instructed carefully as the elf nodded in comprehension.

Together, they carefully lifted Ron up. In the feeble light that entered the cell, Ron looked pale as a ghost and swayed ominously even with Harry and Kreacher holding him on, Harry supporting his back and Kreacher barely reaching till his knees but holding him tight none the less. They balanced him against the wall and the elf took a better hold of his arm.

"W-Wait," called Ron and handed Harry the wand he had taken from Wormtail.

"K-Keep this... Mione ... will n-need," he struggled, and Harry took it and shoved it in his pocket.

"Get going, Ron... I'll bring Hermione back, I promise..." he said looking at his friend's eyes as Ron's eyes drooped shut. He removed his hand from his best mate, nodding at his elf. Ron had already begun to slide down the wall without Harry's support but the elf clicked his fingers and they disappeared in a flash.

Heaving a huge sigh of relief, Harry pulled the cloak over him once more, and walked out of the cell with purpose, closing the door shut behind him.

 _Now, he had to find Hermione and fast._

* * *

 _ **A/N:**_

 _ **Thanks to all of you, my dearest readers. Please let me know what you think of this chapter.**_

 _ **Affligo(**_ _ah-FLIG-oh)_ _Strikes a person, as if a blow were made (Source: harrypotterfanon(/dot)wikia(/dot)com)_

 _Heartfelt thanks to all of you for appreciating the dialogue between Draco and Hermione and liking the character sketch of Draco in general. I did start replying but could not answer back to all of you, (no)thanks to a bought of viral that affected all of us at home._

 _Thanks to all of you for your reviews, can't tell you how much I love the reviews, favourites and follows._

 _I won't rush to finish this story, so there will be more than three chapters for sure. We have a while to go before this ends. And then, there will be a sequel, of course._

 _This is a response to_ _ **RoseLc**_ _whom I could not answer back._

 _ **RoseLc:**_ _First, thank you for your kind words, I am so honoured!_

 _About you translating this into French, I feel flattered that you find it good enough to be shared, and of course, you can go ahead with it. However, please keep the credit. I might not own the characters, but I wish to retain the rights on the plot. I know you'll do a great job with translating it, All the best!_


	53. Rescue Part II: Chaos Reigns

**A/N:**

 **To the guest reviewer who wanted me to update: I hope you have patched up with your best friend. I would have taken longer on this but I've tried posting as early as I could for you. Love.**

 **All Characters are the sole property of J. K. Rowling. No copyright infringement intended.**

* * *

 **Chapter 52: Rescue Part II: Chaos Reigns**

The first thing Harry did was try the other doors. Three of them opened to reveal empty caverns, one was sealed shut. It was not hard for him to guess who was held behind the walls. He had had enough visions already.

The greater concern however, was how bad a shape Ollivander was in. The image of Ron flashed in front of his eyes once more, and it was more difficult than ever to force himself back into the present and ignore the dread in his heart.

The decision was simple eventually; he had to find Hermione first. It was only she who could possibly figure out how to undo the enchantments, and more importantly, Ron needed her, at the earliest.

Harry managed to leave the dungeons and into the main hall without any trouble. But if his short but eventful life had told him anything, it was never to be elated about a success right at the start. Standing in the middle of the enormous room he glanced around and let out an exasperated sigh.

What was he expecting? A small little cottage with a couple of rooms he could check out easily?

This place was massive, not as huge as the Chateau perhaps but still disturbingly large. And just because he was invisible and had managed to send Ron to safety did not mean he could stroll around leisurely in his search. In retrospect, the only time he had was till anyone started looking for Draco or Wormtail.

Moving towards one large door that he hoped would lead him to a staircase he wondered again if he ought to have sent the other prisoners away while he still had a chance. But would Kreacher even be able to take them to the Chateau? The elf magic might make him capable of overruling anti-apparition wards, but Harry had no clue how it worked when taking guests.

The large door opened with the smallest of sounds; in fact, Harry was beginning to wonder if it was the thunderous beating of his heart that would break the ominous silence of the surrounding. He was almost sure that his heartbeat was audible from outside, or perhaps it was just his paranoid brain playing tricks?

Finally, standing at the foot of the huge staircase that moved up to branch out into two sides, he closed his eyes to imagine the Chateau. That was the only reference he had to houses that were so enormous. He briefly remembered Hermione telling them that, usually, the lower floor housed the kitchen, dining areas and the parlours. The floors above housed the bedrooms, and in some cases, the libraries. Additionally, there were separate wings for the parents and the children, sometimes the guest rooms were on entirely different floors.

He looked above at the overhanging balconies and quickened up the stairs. Where Hermione could be was anybody's guess. He decided to check the left side first and dashed up as fast as he could, happy that the heavily carpeted floor concealed his footsteps.

Reaching the first landing, he was posed with yet another problem. The dimly lit but heavily furnished path had nothing less than ten huge doors, all of which were shut.

He griped his wand tighter feeling inside his pocket for Wormtail's wand and was momentarily surprised on finding not one but two woods. He did remember disarming Draco, but could not remember when he had caught and eventually shoved the weapon into his pocket. However, its presence comforted him a little more. Now, when he got back to the Chateau with Hermione, the three of them would have a wand each.

Glancing around and tucking the fraying ends of the cloak closer to his body, he quickly made his way to the first of the doors...

Three doors so far had opened to empty rooms, and he hurried towards the next one when it opened from the other side and a pale, sickly looking Lucius appeared. Harry instantly moved back, and although still invisible, hid behind a large figurine as the unsuspecting Malfoy Senior crossed him and went towards the staircase.

Harry made a split second decision, and glancing briefly at the still un-ventured rooms, followed the old man, casing a soft spell to muffle his sounds further.

Lucius crossed over the staircase onto its right side and took the long corridor which was not as heavily furnished as the other side unaware of a person following him a good ten paces behind. The Manor seemed to be empty but Harry didn't really have the luxury of dropping his guard. All his senses were on high alert, watching out for any sudden movements.

He glanced around at every few steps while keeping a watch on the man so as not to lose sight of him. Following the Death Eater was a decision taken purely on instinct: it could reward him or put an end to this rescue bid completely. A part of his brain was berating him and urging him to turn around and continue his search while the foul old man was away, but his determined steps kept him on his path. Watching from behind, Harry noticed that Lucius had lost that stiff gait he held himself with. In fact, he looked pale and weak just like his son. It was not hard to see that the family had lost favours with Voldemort.

Even as Lucius strode towards the far end of the corridor, Harry trained his ears for any sign of Hermione from the closed doors on his left. He quickened his pace as the man finally disappeared inside a room.

The door was almost closed leaving a just a tiny little gap. Harry edged closer, barely missing knocking off a piece of floral printed china hanging on the wall. He trained his ears harder while peering in, not risking pushing the door open.

From his position, he could roughly make out the foot of a bed. Someone seemed to be lying on it for he could just about see the outline of legs under the cover.

He inched a little closer, opening the door just about a fraction more, berating himself for having left the Extendable Ears back at the Chateau.

"How are you feeling now, my dear?" Harry was definitely sure he had never heard Lucius sound that way before. It was more likely Narcissa, and he almost turned around, grumbling about the futility of the exercise of having followed the man and lost precious time.

"Better, where is Draco?" she asked. It was not hard to guess from her voice that she was weak and sick.

"In his room perhaps, or in the girl's, I don't know." Harry almost froze in his steps. It was not hard to guess who this 'girl' could be. The man sounded gleeful; that could not be a good sign either.

"I don't like it Lucius," Narcissa's voice was strained and there was a pause before the occupants spoke further. Harry held on to the shiny silver doorknob training his ears hard, hoping against hope for Lucius to drop any sign of Hermione's location.

"You shouldn't have pushed Draco into this," she argued more fiercely and with a definite hint of annoyance although her voice was still weak like a person who had been ill for a while.

"Hasn't our son suffered enough?" she inquired again, a little pleading and a little berating.

"This will solve all our problems, love." Pacified her husband, "I have told you why we need her."

"But what about my son, Lucius?" she asked irritably before a bout of a cough ensued. It was only after a while that either of them spoke again.

"You need rest, Narcissa," came Lucius' voice, soft and caring. Harry had difficulty associating the words with the image of the man in his head.

"No, I need to talk to you," she retorted. "I have known Hermione since she was a baby. She is not as easy or naive as you think. The Dark Lord wanted her as his main lieutenant. Don't put my son in this mess!" she pleaded.

"You were always in favour of this match," Lucius' voice was getting a little tired now.

"I was, but before all of this! She has spent almost a couple of years with Potter and that Weasley!"

"Oh, don't you worry about that, darling!" he cheered and the hairs on Harry's arms rose at the tone, "Our son has seen to it."

Harry gripped his wand harder, the fingers of his other hand gripping the doorknob almost stopping blood circulation. He didn't really comprehend the full meaning of the statement but there was something dark in that laugh.

"Did you shift her from that room?" came Narcissa's voice again and Harry forced himself to listen.

"No, she is still upstairs. Why? Have you heard anything?" Harry was concentrating so hard that he unconsciously pushed the door open a little more and was now able to see the hunched form of Lucius sitting on a chair next to the bed on which Narcissa lay.

"No, she doesn't talk much; doesn't even move around a lot from the sounds. Did Draco meet her?"

"Yes," grinned the foul old man and Harry hated the sound.

"I didn't hear anything," she said looking at the ceiling for a moment, and Harry was sure his heart stopped for a minute.

Hermione was in a room right above this.

"Draco would have charmed the room silent, he needed it for the task he had to do, after all," sneered Lucius with an ugly laugh and Harry rushed away holding back the urge to hurt this pathetic excuse of a man- only because he had to get to Hermione first.

...

The climb up the stairs happens in a heartbeat or so it seems. He had no clue what plans Lucius had for Hermione but whatever the maniac had in mind had to be evil. And he seemed to have put it in action already, at least partially.

He moved in faster, counting the doors on his left to keep track. His heart was almost throbbing at his throat and he broke into a run. The feebly lit corridor looked eerily similar to the dungeons.

He paused finally when he thought he had reached and did a mental crosscheck before pushing the door slightly. The bastard had charmed this room to be heard from downstairs, and he had no doubt that Hermione would be wandless and could not have charmed the room silent. The only consolation he had was that Narcissa appeared way too sick, so it was possible that she hadn't been that attentive. It was also possible that Hermione had managed to hold her cover pretty well.

But he had to be quiet now.

The door opened enough for him to slide in. He almost cried in relief at the sight of the figure slumped on the couch. A few candles were lit and cast a dim glow all around. Closing the door softly and still hidden under the cloak, he made his way towards her quickly.

Up close Hermione looked deathly pale. He was relieved to see that, at least, she was not wounded. Dried tear marks strained her cheeks and she whimpered softly in her sleep. Kneeling down in front of her, he took a deep breath and placed a palm gently on her arm.

"Hermione?" he called ever so softly but she woke up in a flash, shock and fear playing in her tired eyes as she looked at the empty space in front of her.

"Shh... it's me, Harry! Don't scream," he whispered urgently and cast a Silencing Charm before pulling off the cloak.

A shocked moment passed when she simply stared, her fearful eyes taking in his partly visible body and the cloak and then suddenly she was on the floor too, hugging him tightly.

"Oh, Harry!" she sobbed and he was just about to put his arms around her before she pushed him away, wiping away the tears with the back of her hand.

"Harry," she began fearfully and he could see the anguish in her eyes as clearly as ever,

"R-Ron..." she managed before choking on another sob, and he stopped her before she could continue.

"I know!" he replied urgently, gripping her hand hard in his.

"I've sent him back, don't worry! He's safe now," he said placing her wand back in her hands and randomly pulled one out for himself. "But we've got to leave!" he added urgently while pushing them both off the floor.

There was a soft sigh of relief that escaped her and Harry did not miss the change in her persona immediately. There was still pain and exhaustion, but a fair amount of steel in her eyes.

She gripped the priced wood in her palm looking at it with self-assurance.

"How?" she asked licking her parched lips and looking around, and Harry was sure, planning at the same time.

"Kreacher," he replied mirroring her action and she stood shocked for a minute.

"Elf magic..." she murmured to herself and paused; Harry could almost see her thinking.

"So we leave the same way?" she asked after a brief minute, picking up the cloak that had fallen to the ground.

"Yes, but there are others, Ollivander and Luna perhaps... in the dungeons." He responded looking surprised at her as she draped the cloak over him.

"Then that's where we go," she instructed as she pulled it over his head rendering him completely invisible.

He was about to pull her inside it too but at that minute the door flew open and a malicious looking Lucius walked in. His hair was fraying behind him and he had an unhealthy gleam in his eyes.

"Her-" he began and then scrunched up his brows noticing the wand in her hands.

"Wha-" he began again, and before Harry could as much react, a set of vicious red birds were speeding towards the Death Eater. Lucius screamed and made towards the door but the birds caught him none the less, pecking him with their sharp beaks, their wings flapping madly around them.

"Let's go!" she yelled next to him and he ran behind her. Ahead of them, Lucius was still struggling with the birds that were pecking every bit of exposed skin they could reach as he hurled his arms maniacally, yelling out for help.

It was a bad idea, extremely satisfying perhaps, but bad, thought Harry as he followed behind Hermione. The portraits were now all screaming and hurling obscenities, adding to the ruckus. Pieces of china that decorated the walls, crashed onto the floor while they dashed behind the struggling man.

Unable to take the yelling anymore, Harry paused for a minute to vanish the birds. He was sure that the screams would have roused the entire Manor, and any Death Eater who was present would soon be rushing in. They had to get away fast.

Lucius collapsed on the floor, bleeding profusely from his raw wounds, looking gruesome. He stopped wailing with difficulty and looked fearfully but angrily at Hermione who had also come to a stop. The look of deep loathing she gave him made Harry worry for the man despite himself. There was no doubt that Hermione could be ruthless enough if needed.

"Why?" Malfoy Senior asked looking at her, briefly eyeing the empty space next to her as if sensing his presence.

" _Because of what you did to Ron_ ," she spat. "Tell your Lord, I was never his and will never be, ever!" she yelled and before Lucius could as much press his palm on the mark, she hit him with a body bind.

"This is the start, I promise," she said with a backwards glance and rushed away, Harry following her while the injured man whimpered behind them.

But the commotion had awakened the Manor, or perhaps Narcissa had, thought Harry. They were barely at the steps when three huge, cloaked men appeared at the foot of the stairs. He saw them first and pulled Hermione to hide behind the rails just as the first of the curses flew past them.

The Death Eaters had already seen them, _seen her_ (he was still invisible he reminded himself) and noticed the wand in Hermione's hand. That along with Lucius' screams made the math quite simple. And there was the marked change in her persona.

"Come out!" bellowed one from below and Harry stood up to notice that they were climbing up already. He crouched back down, the man barely twenty feet away from them.

"Any other way?" he whispered urgently.

"None," she replied back.

"Granger, you can't escape," barked the man again, now closer than before.

"Get inside the cloak!" Harry hissed pulling on Hermione's hand but she pushed him off.

"No, you need to stay hidden! Plus, I want them to know I am not theirs!" she added with a crazy amount of hate in her eyes, and just like, that she stood up and shot a Stunning Curse right at the man's head.

His stiff form dropped down the stairs like a piece of a statue and the two behind him spend barely a few minutes to recover from their shock, scrambling away from the bulky figure before they began shooting spells at her. Harry sent out a Shield Charm and a spark of green and another red bounced off it to hit the antiques on the lower level. Pieces of metal and glass rained down on the men as both sides duelled hard. He stood close to Hermione, and she was so fast dodging and shooting spells that her hand was almost a blur. The Death Eaters had still not noticed that there were two, not one duelling against them. However, they did appear be good duellers if not the best, and Harry was beginning to get worried as the men moved up while he and Hermione were forced to take several back steps.

A Stunning spell, he didn't know his or hers, hit one and the man fell with a loud thud, and now the lone Death Eater standing looked around, realising perhaps for the first time that Hermione was not alone. He began shooting random spells now, and at least a couple of them flew past too close for comfort.

Next to him, Hermione groaned aloud and the very next instant, the heavy chandelier high up on the ceiling came crashing down on the man.

Glass, brass and pieces of wood and stone rained all around them.

"Come on!" she yelled from somewhere ahead, and the two of them dashed ahead over the debris. He felt pieces of glass hitting his skin but they could not stop now.

They crossed the hallway with the portraits screaming and yelling, and with a horrified backwards glance, Harry noticed the main door opening and a huge group rushing in- their surprise the only margin of advantage for the two of them.

He followed Hermione as she turned sharply at the entrance to the dungeon, even as the noises and flashes of red and green shot behind them.

"Where are you?" Hermione called panicked, pausing at the first step of the dungeon, and he literally pushed her down, joining her and blasting off the ceiling behind him. Large pieces of stone, wood and other debris came crashing once more and Hermione screamed which mingled with the yells coming in from the other end. He pulled his leg forcefully from under a large chunk of wood and took off the cloak, stuffing it quickly inside his jacket. She came back hurriedly towards him, face coated with dust and streaks of blood he knew not from where.

"We have to leave! Where are they?" she cried urgently as they stumbled down the steps, Harry's own speed restricted by the pain in his leg. Sounds from the other end had muffled slightly but he was sure they were busy clearing the blocked entrance. A sharp pain shot through his scar, he screamed aloud stopping in his steps as Hermione came rushing back to him.

"Harry! Are you okay?!"

He could not answer her, as the image of the dungeon vanished to reveal a dark village road and rage that was not his, flooded his veins.

"HARRY!"

Hermione's voice came from somewhere far away, faint and small but he could still make out the fear in her voice.

"Please... Please... we have to go back! For Ron...HARRY!"

 _For Ron... Ron..._

Ron's severely injured form materialised in front of his eyes, pushing the other images and rage away. Ron needed him. Ron needed Hermione. They had to leave.

He pushed away the visions, how he didn't know and Hermione's scared face came into view.

"They called him, he is coming," he told her and watched as her eyes drained of colour.

"Then we have to leave right away!" she urged, pulling him up from the steps where he had apparently collapsed.

His scar was still hurting and he could still feel Voldemort's rage as he seemed to fly over land without a broom or any other support. But he concentrated hard on the present, on now.

They rushed further down. During the small amount of time when he had been lost, the Death Eaters had made good progress. Their sounds were now louder than before as if the barrier of rubble was almost cleared off.

"THERE!" he yelled finally pointing at the door, and Hermione made some furious motions with her wand and groaned aloud in disappointment.

"I CAN'T OPEN IT!" she yelled frantically.

He thought for a second, "Blast it open." He told her and moved as fast as he could towards the door.

"WE WILL BLAST OPEN THE DOOR, MOVE AWAY FROM IT- THE FARTHEST YOU CAN GET!" he screamed.

They counted to five, turning back where the voices were now steadily getting louder. They seemed to have almost cleared out the passage.

Hermione screamed, "Diffindo!" breaking the ceiling at the end of the corridor once more, and buying them precious time while he focused on the door in front.

"WE ARE COMING!" he called and hoped the prisoners on the other end had heard them.

The door was blasted off with a loud bang that echoed in the small space and tore at their eardrums, causing a storm of dust that made the dimly lit space all the more dark.

"WHERE ARE YOU?" Hermione called frantically from behind him and they heard a weak reply. They pushed and scrambled over the bits of stone and bricks as the voices got louder. They were just beyond the rubbles in the corridor now.

"QUICK! QUICK!" he yelled looking around furiously with the help of their wand-light.

"HARRY! HERE!" she called from somewhere to his right and he hurried the best he could.

"Luna!"

"Harry!" the girl greeted back pleasantly as if they were meeting on a pleasant spot instead of a dungeon with a hoard of death eaters behind them.

"Call for Kreacher, Harry!" Hermione instructed and he saw the girls holding a very weak Ollivander.

"Anyone else here?" he asked Luna urgently, looking around.

"No, just two of us," she answered in her dreamy voice. He nodded and called out.

The elf materialised in a heartbeat. He looked pale and Harry dared not ask if the reason was Ron.

"Take us back," He instructed extending his hand as all of them held on to each other.

"Kreacher can't take guests in. The wards not allow!" squeaked the elf and he groaned aloud.

"Take us at the edge of the forest, I'll manage from there." instructed Hermione; Harry was glad about her quick thinking.

"Do as she says," he instructed urgently as the sounds got louder than ever.

The five of them disappeared barely seconds before the Death Eaters came crashing in.

...

They appeared in the dark forest, and before Hermione could open the wards to take them towards the cottage, two cloaked figures approached them with their wands pointed at their hearts.

* * *

 _ **A/N:** Thanks to all of you for reading and those fantastic reviews you send my way. It took me quite a while to get this chapter right. __Sorry for the horrible cliffy but it's a teaser for what is to come. I can't wait to finish the next chapter- it will bring Hermione's journey in search of herself to a full circle. And it will bring back Ron. I have missed writing him._

 _I hope you all like this chapter. Please let me know, won't you?_


	54. Finding Hermione Granger

**A/N:**

 **Apologies for that horrid cliffhanger and the delayed post. Here it is, enjoy!**

* * *

 **Chapter 53: Finding Hermione Granger**

"Wait!" he yelled at Hermione, his wand still pointing at the two figures who were mirroring his action, but at his words, they eased and slowly removed their hoods.

"Ah! Professor Lupin! Nice to see you!" beamed Luna while Kreacher released a tiny grunt, squeezed as he was between the girls and the weak form of Ollivander.

"Harry, Hermione," sighed Bill as both the newcomers lowered their wands. Harry however still held his wand aloft and glanced sideways to notice Hermione fumble for a minute in confusion. He understood her perfectly; they had been through so much of late and good news had been so very rare that it almost felt eerie and untrue like a deceit was hidden somewhere.

"How do I know it's you and not an imposter?" he asked his brows scrunched in concentration. Hermione let out a small sound of helplessness; he couldn't blame her- he wanted to get to Ron at the earliest too. But what if they really were Remus and Bill? He held on from hoping too much before they were sure.

Lupin, however, smiled and shared a look with Bill. "I taught you well," he said in an undertone but Harry was not fazed.

"What did I ask Sirius when I spoke to him through the fire in Umbridge's office?" he asked his ex-professor and his father's dear friend (or the person who might possibly be impersonating him).

A tiny sad smile graced Lupin's tired face and he looked directly at Harry as he spoke.

"You asked how Lily married James when she definitely hated him," he replied, his eyes depicting a sadness that was blatantly evident even in that faint wand light. Harry watched him for a minute and then brought his wand down.

The two men came forward quickly, Lupin hugging Harry for a quick minute before he and Bill supported Ollivander.

"Where is Ron?" inquired Bill urgently as Hermione got busy opening the wards to allow them till the Cottage; her urgency a clear giveaway that she did not wish to waste a moment more.

"He is inside," Harry replied. Guilt laced his words and he wasn't quite able to meet the tall redhead's eyes.

"How did you guys find us?" he asked taking a glance and noticing Bill's stoic face.

"Let's get within the wards first," suggested Hermione taking quick steps ahead, and the group followed her towards the cottage, their path illuminated by wand lights.

It was only after they had settled in the familiar place and shut the door in their wake that Harry answered. Ron's oldest brother had already checked all the rooms and stood questioningly in front of him, while Lupin cautiously looked around and proceeded to cast a few more spells before taking his place on the settee Harry had shared with Ron once.

 _Ron..._

Heaving a sigh he glanced back to notice Hermione had not bothered to wait and discuss. Holding back the intense desire to follow her, he slumped down, noticing for the first time how his aching muscles groaned as they touched the soft surface.

"This is just the entrance to a Chateau that lies behind this wall. That is where we were hiding, that's where Ron is now," he answered the silent question, taking in the odd group around him.

It felt kind strange, months and months of solitary confinement and suddenly they were thrown into a den of enemies, and now, just out of the blue there were five familiar friendly faces in front of him. It was almost ironical, he thought.

As he took in the familiar surrounding again, he realised that it just wasn't them hiding from the world, it was also like the truth and depth of the darkness was hiding away from them. And, all of a sudden, both the worlds had collided; the darkness had come crashing into their safe bubble.

These people sitting around him were friends. They were the connections with outside world and probable source of news they had been sorely craving for so long. However, now, he wasn't so eager to know anything. There was nothing outside, nothing apart from terror and grief, death and despair.

He briefly noticed Hermione fidgeting, clearly displeased with the slow sliding of the wall. Even as he watched, she did not wait for it to open all the way but squeezed in the moment the gap was wide enough for her and disappeared from sight without a backwards glance. As the wall sealed itself again, he turned back to the men with a soft, exhausted sigh; he owed them answers.

Bill had already got up to follow Hermione but he paused at the wall and returned back with a scowl.

"Harry, why wasn't Ron with you?" he asked.

Harry wondered how to tell Ron's eldest brother the true reason. Ron's injured form materialised in front of his eyes and he gulped down a discomfort wondering where to begin.

"He was injured, I had to send him back first before I looked out for Hermione," he replied ashamed. It was his fault; if he had not fought with Ron, if he had trusted his best mate a little more none of this would have happened.

The two men were still looking at him with confusion, and in Bill's case, a fair amount of worry. He decided he needed to get over this fast; it wasn't like he could hide Ron forever.

To add to his woes, a very faint image was now beginning to materialise in front of his eyes, and a fury that wasn't his own was gathering strength inside him. He concentrated on Ron, his best mate who needed help. He had to figure out a way to help Ron, and most importantly, he had to stay in the present.

"How bad is he?" asked Bill and Harry forced himself to not give in to the connection. He also hated himself a little more at the moment although Bill's words held no blame. If anything he looked proud, albeit a little tense.

"He is bad... _very bad_..." he finished guiltily.

"We need to get to him and take him somewhere where he will be able to heal. You both won't be able to handle this by yourselves," declared the eldest Weasley sibling in a tone that did not encourage arguments against it.

"This property belongs to Hermione. We have been hiding here, but it's got very strong protections. I can't take you all inside only she can," he mumbled quietly, first because he wasn't so sure it was the right option and second, because getting to control the visions were getting harder by the minute.

"Go, get him," instructed Remus. A silent conversation seemed to pass between the two older Order members, and Lupin proceeded to help Olivander up from the couch he was lying on.

"I'll take them to Molly," Lupin said indicating Luna and the elderly wandmaker. "You take this lot to your place," he added indicating Harry with his free hand.

"No!" Harry was surprised himself but one look at Olivander and he knew the old wandmaker held answers they needed. Perhaps, it would be better to let them take the call for now for Ron's sake if nothing else, but there were certain things only he had to decide. And although his best mate's health was the priority now, he could not afford to forget that they were still fighting, the war was still on. Plus, there was the throbbing in his scar that was getting stronger by the minute; he knew he would have to give in sometime soon. Voldemort knew about the escape. It was perhaps only the fear of losing Ron to death that was making him hold on so long.

"Get them, Harry. We've got to leave fast. Now that you all have escaped, they will not leave a stone unturned to search you," stated Bill urgently and he shook his head and got up, realising only then that he had been holding on to the arms of the couch so hard that his knuckles were practically white.

"Yeah..." he managed somehow and moved inside.

Once within the charms, he collapsed on the ground holding his head in his hands as the full blast of Voldemort's rage overtook his senses, bombarding his brain with images of the green spells that he shot out at the men who had failed him.

...

Hermione didn't care. She didn't care what they were planning or what they thought should be done now. All she knew was she needed Ron and Ron, he was...

She gulped hard as finally, the tears came flooding her vision. Only the thought of seeing Ron had taken her through that escape. Only his words, that Harry had to be kept hidden and safe no matter what the circumstances, had made her throw away her cover so that they would think she betrayed them all alone. Harry had to be kept safe, kept hidden as long as they could. Ron was practically fighting death to keep Harry alive, couldn't she do the same? Wasn't that what Ron wanted from her?

There would be a lot of time to wonder how or why she had reacted the way she had, but in the end, it was really simple, wasn't it?

With Harry's arrival, the dam of control had finally collapsed and she had given in to the insane urge to hurt those who had tortured her Ron, to severely maim and hurt the people who were trying to take him away from her forever. The same people who had snatched her parents away from her. It was as if those two days of pent up fury and pain had flowed uncontrolled through her veins and burnt away everything that came in her path. And she had been planning anyway, going through the curses and spells she wanted to use on Lucius, Bellatrix and Pettigrew at the first chance she got.

Hermione ran as fast as she could. She ran through the growth of flowering vines and crossed the steps; pausing barely a heartbeat to push the large doors of the Chateau open.

"RON!" she called even as her voice cracked with another onslaught of tears and pain, and she rushed up the stairs ignoring the muscles in her legs that protested vehemently forcing her to slow down. She pulled on with every ounce of strength she had left, not stopping as she crossed the long corridors, wiping the free falling tears as she made her way towards her room.

Finally, after what felt like a million years, she threw open the door to the room, and then, came to a halt.

The severely injured form of Ron lay on her familiar bed with her books lying around him just the same way she had left them two days ago.

Was it just a couple of days? Forty-eight hours? Why did it feel like a lifetime had passed; a lifetime of pain and agony?

Hermione stopped because suddenly her legs were too heavy to carry her further, unable to breach the last small distance that separated them. She stood instead, holding the door to support herself while continuing to watch his still form- his face almost unrecognisable with the scars, wounds, grime and blood. She wanted to call him out but couldn't because her heart almost stopped beating as she realised his injuries were far worse than what she had seen in the comparatively fainter torchlights in the dungeons.

The gruesome vision almost tore her apart, and the tiny bit of fear she had pushed in the farthest corner of her mind came forward in full force, getting bigger with every passing breath.

His clothes were almost in tatters showing off the innumerable and ugly wounds that lay beneath them. His face was practically unrecognisable with the grime and dried up blood while he lay still and stiff, unmoving.

As her eyes traced his inert form pausing longest on his chest, she realised horrified that she was subconsciously looking out for a movement, a rise and fall no matter how faint . Suddenly the air around got too thick, and it became steadily more difficult to breathe; her hold on the door slacked off its own accord, the vision around her blurred as she struggled to take in air. She tried hard to keep her eyes open, but her legs finally gave away, and Hermione only fleetingly realised that she was collapsing without any control- everything around her getting darker by the moment.

"Hermione? HERMIONE?!"

Harry's voice floated from some far away land, and when she finally opened her eyes it was to see the sheet-white face of her bespectacled friend over hers and the feel of the carpeted floor below.

"Are you alright?" he asked anguished, those green eyes clearly depicting the fear she felt herself. She took a gulp of air, breathing with much difficulty through her mouth before nodding a little and he released a soft sigh.

"R-Ron?" she asked and watched Harry as closely as her moist eyes allowed, but it was hard to miss how he stiffened at her voice.

Fear and pain came in fresh waves as Ron's inert image came crashing back. He wasn't moving, not even slightly... Her heart constricted so painfully that anything she had faced so far in life felt insignificant. She didn't have the strength to take this; she didn't have the strength to lose him and continue living, it would be easier to die.

"He- He is alive..." Harry replied and she let out an involuntary cry. A thousand nails seemed to prick her all over in the way he said it but at least he said Ron was alive.

"He needs help, Hermione... Please," Harry managed to help her sit, pushing her gently in his urgency; his face depicting the torment in his heart.

She used his arm to pull herself up, and together they walked towards the bed. She tried to think; to keep a cool head and do what she knew had to be done. Hadn't she read up intensively about Healing Magic just for this kind of an eventuality? Yes, she had. But now faced with the actual task, she realised it was way more difficult than just learning up the art.

They moved closer to the bed and closer to Ron. She took in his form again, choking on a sob that almost escaped as his tortured form came up closer.

She had to heal him, she had to help Ron, she had to do this. So much depended on getting everything right, one small mistake and Ron...

She forced herself to stop the thought that almost knocked her out again. She would have to win this. There was no way life would take away this from her. She would not allow it. Didn't she ace every exam she took? No matter what she did, Hermione always gave all she had to excel in it, and this was her biggest assignment ever, and she couldn't afford to lose.

"We need to heal his injuries first," she said in a voice that sounded mechanical, not hers at all.

"We are going off to Bill's place, Fleur can help us heal him," replied Harry from behind, and she noticed he was busy throwing in all their belongings inside her small beaded bag.

"He is not fit enough to Apparate. His injuries will tear up during Apparition if we don't provide some basic treatment at least," she found herself replying.

Hermione didn't know how she was doing it; somehow her brain had blocked off her emotions for the time at least, making her focus on the task at hand like she did while studying. It was taking this as another problem that needed to be solved. She felt constricted, like she couldn't really feel and was working mechanically. But that was the need of the hour, wasn't it? She could do with it.

"Get me the box from the dresser, one with the medicinal potions," she instructed as her fingers moved to Ron's chest to tear away the now threadbare Weasley jumper. The maroon hid away the blood stains but the golden 'R' had dark blotches on it. She then proceeded to unbutton his shirt. Her fingers shook and her lips quivered while she carefully and tenderly did away the few buttons that had managed to survive all those spells and were barely managing to hold the two sides together.

As his tattered vest came into view, the shivering extended from her arms to spine and legs making them wobbly. Angry bruises, ugly swelling and caked-up blood covered his torso. Very slight rise and fall could be seen and she could feel a sickening tremor rise up her spine. Closing her eyes for a very brief minute, Hermione took in a shaky breath praying to anyone who would hear to give her some strength.

She didn't realise Harry moving closer, noticing only when he gasped behind her, and she turned away from the unconscious ginger to meet his eyes.

"There is a bottle labelled Essence of Dittany and another phial that holds a yellow potion, the Essence of Murtlap," she told him calmly, surprising even herself. Harry fumbled for a few minutes while she conjured a bowl of lukewarm water and washcloths. Ron stirred slightly as she carefully pressed the cloth over his grime covered injuries.

"Her...mione..." he moaned in that barely conscious state, and that one word broke the wall Hermione's brain had built around her heart. Her hands shook wildly and she collapsed at the edge of the bed as loud sobs wracked her body.

...

Hours later, sitting on the soft, pale blue couch in Bill and Fleur's sea-side cottage, Harry stared hard at the goblet of Firewhiskey Bill had handed him.

The surrounding was eerily peaceful, and he felt dislodged from his body. It was hard to figure out what was real and what wasn't. And it was harder perhaps to soak in that they were not alone now and had others to care for them if only for a while. He looked at the golden amber coloured liquid and took in a sip, not even registering the bitter taste that burnt his throat as it went down.

The house was silent now, the sky a little less dark. In fact, he could see the black giving way to different lighter hues in the horizon and blend in with the sea. It was serene and beautiful really. So strikingly in contrast from the time they had Apparated here in the middle of the night with Bill holding unconscious Ron, and him supporting a broken Hermione.

He had seen their injuries himself, but Harry was sure he didn't even know half of the horrors his friends had gone through. And it was all because of _him_ , to save _him_.

He took in a deep breath that did not fill in his chest at all. They were safe now, or were they? The last vision that had come to him barely minutes after he spoke to the ailing Ollivander who had confirmed what he had already deduced. Did it scare him that Voldemort possessed the Elder Wand now? Perhaps. The man's demure had been extremely determined and terrifyingly sinister as he pulled out the weapon from the dead Headmaster's tomb.

The recent events had also told him something else. His obsession about the Hallows seemed foolish now. He had got side-tracked; he had been too obsessed with him staying alive while their world wasn't safe at all. It was slowly collapsing piece by piece. There were so many deaths around them that keeping a count was getting difficult. Voldemort wanted _him_ , and he or his Death Eaters would not think twice about harming others in their quest of getting their hands on him.

Even without Voldemort presence or the Elder Wand for that matter, Ron could have died. There was still a feeble chance of that happening as Fleur had fearfully told them a while back. Her halting, grim voice was like a punch in the gut. This war that had claimed his parents and his Godfather was now after his best mate. Would he survive losing Ron? What would be left for him to fight for? He had seen Hermione. She might have been physically unharmed but it was not difficult to see the psychological damage that had been inflicted on her. Would she survive losing Ron? And, Ginny and the rest of the Weasleys? How would he ever stand in front of Ginny if her brother died because of him? How would he ever face Molly or Arthur?

"Harry?"

Bill's voice was heavy and Harry looked up at the eldest Weasley sibling, unable to breathe for a minute there.

Bill let out a sigh and collapsed next to him. He rubbed his palms over his tired eyes before exhaling soundly once more.

"He is slightly better, for now," he provided tiredly, and Harry released a breath he had been holding for much too long. He gulped down the remaining liquid in one gulp.

"Still flicking in and out of consciousness," added Bill as the Curse Breaker summoned the bottle of Firewhiskey from the kitchen and refilled Harry's goblet before taking a deep swig himself straight from the bottle.

"Will he be okay?" Harry found himself asking, feeling very small, and Bill patted him gently on the back like he did with his other brothers. If anything, it made him feel worse.

"Fleur reckons he has a tough couple of days ahead of him. They must have tortured him for a while. Lots of broken bones and many of those wounds have gone nasty. He'll take a while to heal. He would do better at St Mungos but, of course, that is not an option we have. Fleur is forced to do with whatever potions and salves she has, and the ones Hermione had obviously. It's hard to tell if those will be enough..."

Harry drank deeply again, finishing whatever was left in his goblet and cherishing the burn in his throat.

"What about Hermione?" he asked after a while.

"There is nothing physical on her apart from the recent ones, perhaps she got those during your escape bid. But Lupin spoke to her, and-" he let out a sigh, "-they made her watch Ron's torture."

The rage he felt at Bill's words rivalled Voldemort's. He thought he understood Hermione's outburst now. Heck, he hated himself for vanishing those birds off Lucius. He should have just let those be.

"Is she okay?" he asked with difficulty.

"Fleur gave her a very strong Calming Drought, she is sleeping now."

He nodded because the pain was rendering him speechless.

"I am sorry, Bill," he said after a long while and did not, or perhaps could not meet the older man's eyes that turned sharply towards him at his words.

"For what, Harry?"

"For Ron," he replied softly and was surprised to hear a small chuckle.

"Don't disgrace my brother's bravery, Harry," he said kindly, "If anything, I am proud of him,"

"He almost died, I am sure they asked him about me... He was tortured because of me,"

"He would have done it for anyone of us, and you know that. He did it just as much for this war as he did it for you, Harry. He did what he was supposed to," he said proudly. "And thank you for bringing him back to us," he added softly.

"Where is Remus?" Harry asked without answering mainly because he thought he deserved no thanks.

"He is checking Ron for any long-lasting curse damages," replied Bill. "By the way, how did you escape the Manor?"

Harry took the opportunity to concentrate on something other than the burning guilt and proceeded to give him the details. He tried telling him everything, concentrating on the narration rather than the feeling of intense pain that clutched his heart.

"How did you find us?" he asked after he was done.

"Mundungus," replied Lupin walking down the last of the steps and taking his place.

"Ron will be okay, his injuries are nasty and will definitely take considerable time to heal but no long lasting curses," he told them and Harry collapsed back on the couch with a soft sigh.

"And Hermione?" he inquired, but Lupin shook his head sadly.

"Physcological injuries are more difficult to detect and treat," he responded somberly. "She will take time, but I agree with Dumbledore, she is a very strong witch,"

"Yes," he added remembering their escape.

"It was difficult getting her away from Ron," said the ex-professor quietly, with a meaningful glance at Bill.

"I wonder why they didn't harm her, though," muttered the only Weasley and something from months ago clicked.

"I bet Ron told them Hermione was not with the Order," he replied. "I remember he was very insistent about Hermione keeping her identity of being a true Granger for her own safety," he confessed.

"But how did he convince Hermione to do such a thing while they tortured him?" questioned Bill speaking his own thoughts aloud. That bothered him too. How could Hermione sit back and watch while they tortured Ron?

"Only they can tell us what happened," concluded Lupin and they were silent once more.

"How did Mundungus know where we were?" asked Harry after a while. The number of questions he needed answers for was piling up once more, and he hated it.

"He was in the pub Ron and Hermione were taken to after their capture. He sneaked away when he could and got in touch with the twins. They give him a lot of business, you know buying stuff from him which no one will, and in return, he passes us information when he can- without endangering his own skin of course," provided Bill, and Lupin took over from there.

"We had to track one of the Snatchers in that gang and that took us considerable time because times are not really much in our favour at the moment. Finally, we were able to retrieve the location they were captured from. We also got to know that the prisoners were away to the Malfoy Manor. But the Snatcher's memories showed only Ron and Hermione, we figured you'd still be safe, hoped actually."

"Remus and I had been in that forest for around a couple of hours before you guys turned up. We were not even sure we'd find you but that was the only lead we had. In all honesty, we had almost lost hope of getting those two back or finding you for that matter. No one they take to the Manor usually survives. We lost Ted..."

He gasped and looked between Remus and Bill, "Ted Tonks? Tonk's father?"

"Yeah, we guess it was Bellatrix. His mutilated body was dumped miles from Andromeda's childhood home," said Lupin barely concealing his fury. Harry didn't know how much more he could take. Suddenly the option of staying ignorant about the outside world was appearing so much better.

"But not all is bad," provided Bill with a small smile, "We rescued that boy, didn't we? Dean, right?" he asked Lupin.

"Yeah, Dean Thomas," he told Harry, "He managed to get away from a set of Snatchers and was luckily found by Kingsley. He is now with Molly and Arthur at their safe house,"

"Where is Ginny?" he asked suddenly, not that he had forgotten about her but, now that they knew Ron was with him, Ginny wouldn't be safe at school.

"Don't worry, we pulled her out the first thing after we got to know of Ron's capture," provided Bill and he sighed in relief. A tiny part in his heart grumbled about the fact that Ginny and Dean were quite possibly in the same house now but he shoved it aside. The further she was from him, the safer she would be, Ron's predicament had proved just as much.

"So, your Mum knows about Ron's capture?" he asked as self-loathing mounted in him again.

"Yeah, and that reminds me, I have to go and tell her we found them," declared the tall Weasley as he rose up and moved upstairs, quite possibly to inform his wife.

"And I should be getting back too... Tonks is due any time now," Lupin said casually, and Harry thought a very small smile graced the ex-Defence Against the Dark Art's teacher's tired features.

"Woah! Wow!" he exclaimed smiling back, his muscles literally aching with the effort. "Congratulations!" he added having almost forgotten how to respond to good news.

"Not that I'm not worried," replied Lupin suddenly more tired.

"I know but it will be fine, we'll make sure of it," he promised his father's old friend as much as he swore it to himself.

...

Hermione woke up and for a minute, was terrified that she had fallen asleep in the Manor, but then the recent memories came to the fore and she picked herself up immediately from the bed. A sudden spell of dizziness caused her to sway and she instinctively grasped the bed, noticing in the faint light streaming in through the heavy curtains the sleeping form of Luna Lovegood in the adjacent bed. Hermione was never very fond of the slightly eccentric Ravenclaw, but now after Malfoy Manor, she appreciated the silent resilience of the girl a lot more. She smiled a little at the sleeping form and taking a steadying breath, moved out of the room.

From the light coming in through the windows, it appeared that it was quite possibly past seven in the morning. However, the previous night had been difficult for all and she guessed that most of the members were still asleep.

She made her way towards the room Ron had been in, wondering if Harry was there too. She came down one landing and carefully pushed opened the door. The effect of the Calming Drought had faded and an unease she could not easily define was beginning to get hold of her again. And she felt tired too. Fleur had coaxed her the previous night to have a meal, but her queasiness had not allowed her to have more than a couple of bites of toast. She had barely touched her meals at the Manor too and the combined effect of the stress and starvation was not boring well with her aching muscles.

She moved inside the dimly lit room, grief mounting with each step she took. This was not how she wanted to see Ron.

Moving ahead, Hermione lit a lone candle that sat on a bracket next to the bed. A small table held a large amount of phials and bottles along with gauges, cotton and other articles. She let out a breath, barely holding the tears that were beginning to collect again. She had heard what Fleur had said, and although unwilling to accept it she knew the older witch was right. They did not have all the potions to heal Ron. Only time would tell if whatever they had was healing the wounds from their source or merely acting on a superficial level. Hermione was not willing to think what would happen if they couldn't heal him, but the fear had somehow percolated inside her skin and created images in her brain. Not that her brain had a small inventory of memories to torture her with anyway. Images and sounds in fact. Images that seemed into her nightmares- Ron's face as jets of red and white passed from Bellatrix's wand to enter him and those screams that he let out involuntarily. And yet Hermione had not stopped them. She had not run ahead and fought tooth and nail to stop them from hurting him; she had watched instead. Watched as Bellatrix had caused his bones to break, muscles to rip and blood to flow. Hermione could not forget the crackle that filled the cell as Ron's body convulsed; she could not forget the soft and dry chuckle from Lucius as Ron forced himself to push himself up. She could not forget the sight when Bellatrix pushed her nails on Ron's wound and scratched them open. She could not forget that she stood and watched, equally guilty of the state Ron was in. She was just as responsible for the screams as Malfoy and Lestrange were. If she lost Ron to his injuries, she would have no one but herself to blame.

She watched with painfully dry eyes the man that lay under the covers. Bill had rid Ron of his vest somehow and now his naked torso was covered with pads of cotton and gauge that covered his many wounds. Ron's face was clear of grime but it looked only marginally better than how she had seen in the Chateau, bruised and wounded as it was. She allowed her eyes to move over his arms. The faint white scars that ran all over them, a reminder of the brains that attacked him in the Ministry, would now have the ones on his wrists for company. The bruised shoulders were a sickly greenish black colour.

She looked away because she couldn't keep counting his injuries, they were just too many. Each wound seemed to scream and shout and point a finger at her. How many times would she hurt him? How many times would she be the reason for his injuries? How many scars would be left on his body in his quest to keep her safe? How long would he continue to be her guard and step in front to keep her safe?

A fresh spell of dizziness took over and she barely managed to collapse onto the bed next to him. She wanted to cry her heart out but neither a tear nor a word escaped. She wanted to cry and scream and bury herself in his chest. Ron had been there to save her even back in those days when there was nothing but hate between them. Even at the time when she had intentionally endangered him in the Room of Requirements he had been the one to take the hits to keep her out of harm way. He had pulled her out of her collapsing Chamber, almost got strangled while in the Granger forest. Each and every time he had put her safety before his life. And what had she done? She had been so angry with him about the doubts the Horcrux planted in his brains that she had literally pulled him into that trap. She was the reason they had been captured, and despite everything he had taken the brunt of it too.

On hindsight, their fights seemed almost insignificant. They were in a bloody war that was hell-bent on attacking them on all fronts. And death was not a far off thing either, certainly not for them. At the end of the day, these issues mattered less than the real threat they faced. They could be all resolved in time, but what was important here was keeping each other alive. And no matter what the Horcrux had done to Ron, it couldn't touch the love he had for her- of this she was sure.

To say that she hated herself was an understatement. She hated her origin and the world she belonged to, the people she had once thought of as allies, the very same ones who had taken away her parents, the ones who were ecstatic about the slow death that they were shelling out to Ron. She hated that the ones to hurt him were still out there, and she hated herself the most, hated that she did nothing, nothing at all to save Ron.

A single tear escaped and she wiped it off. This wasn't the time to cry. She would not let everything that Ron went through go waste. She closed her eyes, remembering for a brief minute the look on his face that she had seen the first day at Malfoy dungeons- that pride and love that had been for her and her alone. Taking a deep breath she ran her fingers through his hair, careful to not touch the cut that was on his forehead as determination overtook every other feeling, or was it revenge perhaps? She didn't care either way.

Voldemort wanted her as his lieutenant, didn't he? Bellatrix killed her parents for going against Voldemort's wishes, didn't she? The bitch wanted to kill Ron and that mangy bastard Lucius had his own plans. They thought they were so clever and cunning? Well, she would show them just how cunning and ruthless Hermione Granger could get. Now, she would show them exactly what she was capable of to avenge her loved ones. She would make them pay, all three of them, with one single stroke.

* * *

 _ **A/N:** Thanks to each one of you for reading. Apologies, this took way longer to come out as I wanted it to.(Also because I got a brainwave about yet another Romione multi-chapter fic, and I had to make notes for it lest I forget) But this is a long chapter at least. Thanks for all your reviews. I am eager to see what you all think of this chapter. _

_About Hermione's reaction in the previous chapter, I know it appeared OOC as she is so much about planning and not usually so reckless. But this being an AU, certain aspects of her character had to deviate from the series in keeping with the story and her background in this one. I hope this chapter helps explain her actions a little better._

 _Looking forward to reading your thoughts!_


	55. To Bring You Back

**Chapter 55: To Bring You Back**

 _Ron woke up to a clear, crispy blue sky above him and a gentle, soothing breeze all around. He was lying on an open ground; the grass wasn't trimmed and perfect but slightly overgrown with a peppering of dry twigs and leaves. He thought he ought to be tired, but for some strange reason, he felt really good, and more importantly, quite at peace._

 _He closed his eyes once more, soaking in the bliss of the present. The grass ruffled a little, and the dry leaves were twirled around in spirals by the wind before it blew them away altogether.  
_

 _It was a pleasant day; something he hadn't had in as long as he could remember and he seriously wished to cherish it. Along with that thought came another, a slight bother this one was, but he could not ponder over it much no matter how hard he tried. His memories, all those voices and images, seemed hazy and faded. He thought he should remember or at least be worried about how he landed in such a place. But somehow, the magic of this place took away those bothersome thoughts and replaced them with serenity. So he looked around him instead. He thought the place faintly resembled the grounds ahead of the orchard at home, but he couldn't say for sure because he couldn't really remember what his home looked like. But, he did feel at home, safe and secure. Every wisp of air seemed to fill his lungs with the tranquillity that overshadowed every other thought._

 _He opened his eyes again, stretched his arms and pulled himself to a sitting position. With his legs bent at his knees, he rested against the large trunk of a tree which, quite possibly, hadn't been there before. Or had it? He could not really say for sure._

 _He felt very fresh and clean; a tiny part of his brain reminded him that it was different from what he was accustomed to, and perhaps this, whatever it was, dream, mirage or even reality, was binding him to this place, holding him on. There were faint echoes of his past that his brain wished him to remember, but some other, stronger force pushed those away. He realised that it meant that all his memories were still present, just hiding under some sort of a veil, perhaps. He stretched his arms, and for the first time, noticed something that cracked the peace that engulfed him. The familiar scar marks that ran his all over arms till his shoulders were gone. In place of it was pale and unblemished skin._

 _As if jolted by a bout of strong magic, he got up hurriedly at this and looked around. Where the fuck was he, anyway? He could see the wild grassy land, the trees and even a small hillock far beyond a brook, but this place resembled nothing he had ever seen before. And now that he paid more attention to it, he realised that thick silence shrouded everything. There wasn't even a hint of a bird chirping or the leaves blowing in the breeze, not the sound of another human, nothing._

 _He felt inside his pockets, all of which were empty, and despite the magic that lured him to forget it all and perhaps lie down again, he quickened his steps instead. With every step he took, he could distinctly feel a sort of pull backwards. It was an effort really, to keep walking ahead and not give in to the desire to just let it all go. He glanced back and saw that beyond the tree where he had been sitting, there was now a fog that was slowly getting denser. Some voices he could not connect with faces were beginning to call. It was eerie how much he craved to go and see what lay beyond the fog, but the instinct that pulled him towards the brook was stronger._

 _He couldn't say for sure how long it took for him to reach the brook, but something told him that beyond the water and the small hillock, lay the place where he was supposed to be. Before he could even make up his mind to swim across, a bridge swiftly appeared on it. He didn't know what kind of magic this was and decided that it was beside the point anyway. He had to cross this - he was needed there after all. The voices behind him were getting louder, though to be honest, they weren't making much sense. But now, there was another set of jumbled words that was wafting over from the other side of the hillock, words he still couldn't make out, but voices that seemed to pull him towards him with a greater force than ones veiled by the fog behind him._

 _He finally placed a foot on the bridge and touched the railing, and the very next instant, blinding pain shot through his arms causing him to flinch and let go. Once he could open his eyes again, he saw that the familiar white marks had reappeared on his arms. He took another step and his knees buckled as if it had hit solid ground, and finally, he thought he knew what crossing the bridge entailed._

 _By the time Ron crossed the bridge, his entire body was marred with cuts and bruises. He felt tired and weak. Something told him there was still time to go back, and he glanced once at the bridge that stood silently as if waiting for him to backtrack his steps, but he edged forward instead. It took him forever to climb up, and by the end, his breath was coming out in heavy gasps and every fibre in his body was crying in pain. As he slumped down on the ground to catch his breath, he noticed that the grass here was still green but marked with dark patches. Once he had taken enough breaths to appease his tired lungs, he looked up and froze._

 _He was sitting on the Hogwarts grounds._

 _Ron turned around and found that the brook had vanished, and it was now replaced by the Forbidden Forest instead. He picked himself up as dread like he had never known before filled his senses. Perhaps on cue, a high, shrill cry erupted from the castle. From where he found the strength to get up and start running, he didn't know, but it was as if the cry had torn apart the veil that shrouded his memories from him. He ran up the stairway towards the Great Hall, and once again, stopped in shock at what he saw._

 _Hermione was there, and so was Harry, Ginny, his parents and brothers. And then there were the Death Eaters- hoards and hoards of them. He screamed and dashed ahead just as one Death Eater swooped down on Hermione; he ran harder to hold her only to crash hard into an invisible wall instead that threw him off. He got up and tried again as the dark masses of smoke swooped down on every single person he loved, while he struggled to reach out and help, but could do nothing as the invisible barrier blocked his path over and over again. He cried and yelled, banging his fist against the wall and kicking it in an effort to breach it to reach out to his loved ones. But all his attempts led to nothing. One by one, everyone he loved was captured by the darkness._

 _He had almost lost hope, when all of a sudden, amidst all that chaos, there was a loud scream. It came twice, like someone calling his name from some far off land. But the sounds pierced through all, causing the barrier to collapse like cracked glass, and he barely moved to the other side, when the scene disappeared into nothing but darkness._

...

"BILL!"

Fleur's scream caused both of them to dash up the stairs to the small bedroom where Ron was put up.

It had been two whole days, two days of unnerving anxiety as they waited for the potions to heal, and for Ron to wake up. They had finally deemed it fit to shift Ollivander and Luna to the Weasley Seniors because it was getting seriously difficult for Fleur to manage two patients together, especially Ron being as serious as he was.

For the past twenty-four hours, Harry had done nothing but wait in the hall, lending a hand to the married couple as best as he could. But the fear had not left him for a moment, and he was sure it was the same for all four of them. He barely had the courage to face Hermione. She had not moved from Ron's side, assisting Fleur, administering potions and salves, and muttering incantations.

And now that the two days was coming to a close, he could almost feel guilt and pain strangulating him from inside out. Needless to say, that scream made both men rush out as fast as their legs would carry them.

Bill reached first with Harry at his heels, but once at the door, the younger man took a look inside and stopped. Fleur was talking to Bill in words he couldn't fully comprehend. Anguish was clearly making it difficult for her to converse completely in English, and her jumbled words mixed with tears and French. He turned at the other girl instead, but haltingly, terrified of what he might see.

Hermione was on the bed bent over Ron's face, tears streaming down her own. Her arms were cupped on his cheeks that still displayed partly healed wounds. His legs carried him mechanically towards his two best friends, and it was only once he was near enough that he could make out her words.

"Ron! Wake up!" she cried hoarsely like a person who had forgotten to use her voice.

"Please, Ron! Please, Ron, please stay awake!" She continued to sob, shaking the pale redhead by the shoulder. Harry was sure he could not process anything anymore. Tearing his eyes away from the two figures, and forcing himself not to give in to the fear that was intensifying, he turned back instead.

"What-?" he managed to ask Fleur, but it was Bill who answered.

"One of the potions given for healing his septic wounds reacted with something else. Fleur is not so sure, but it could be because of the dark curses they used to torture him with. They might have left some traces in his body, or it could be because of the dark spells that were used to injure him. It is hard to say," he replied glancing towards the bed on which his youngest brother lay, pale and weak.

"But, what now?" he asked. This could not be happening; Ron was supposed to get up and be fine. He always bounced back sooner than others no matter what, whether it was a broken bone or a tentacled brain attack.

"Hermione stopped the effect of the potion with a spell, but we need other potions, and we don't have them here. I've to go," he replied hurriedly, and rushed out of the door, Harry following him after a brief minute that took him to process the words.

"Wait, Bill! I'll come with you," he added pleadingly, rushing after the man who had already raced down the steps and out of the door.

"BILL! PLEASE, WAIT!" he called again, pushing the door open himself, and the man paused.

Harry quickened his steps to stand in front of him and thought he heard Bill release a soft, tired groan. The man finally turned around and placed a hand on Harry's shoulder with a soft sigh. As their eyes met, Harry could see the last strand of hope Bill was clinging on to, and also his desperation to get some help as fast as he could. He seriously hoped Bill could see the same in his eyes too.

"Harry, I need you to be here," said the eldest Weasley sibling in a tone much similar to what he used for his younger brothers. But more than that there was a trust Harry didn't think he deserved.

"We can't leave the girls all by themselves. I'll be back as soon as I can," he said, and Harry couldn't decide if Bill was only pacifying him or saying the truth, but he nodded slightly in agreement nevertheless.

"I only hope Mum has what Ron needs," Bill added in a small whisper, and averting his eyes, walked away quickly to cross the invisible line that marked the beginning of the wards and Disapparated, leaving a sense of darkening gloom in his wake.

He remained standing in the garden for who knew how long, and then, finally, he too turned around, tracing his path back inside the cottage.

Harry returned to the room once more, this time, to find the girls huddled close to Ron. He might have made some noise, he didn't know, but Fleur looked up at him with a small teary smile and his legs moved ahead faster, clinging onto a thin strand of hope her smile had kindled.

On reaching the bed, he was pulled in closer by the French girl, and what he saw made him want to laugh and cry at the same time.

"Ron..." he whispered softly. Ron's eyes that had been locked on Hermione moved at the sound to his face, and his lips curled ever so slightly in a weak attempt at a smile.

Ron' lips parted and closed again, a slight grimace flashing on his face before he tried again.

"Hey," he croaked, but for Harry, at that moment, it could have been the best sound in the world. He could have kicked Ron for scaring them to death, or perhaps punched him in the face for being such a sacrificing moron, but in the end, he only managed a watery, smile.

"He is conscious, that is a good start," Fleur told him, and he released a breath he had held on for a long time now.

"The two of you keep him awake, I'll get him some soup," she added, handing Hermione a small phial which their friend took silently. He turned around just in time to see the older girl rub Hermione's shoulders before walking out. The sniff he heard definitely came from her.

He turned around to watch his best mate and found Hermione carefully tipping a red liquid in his mouth. Harry noticed Ron's eyes on Hermione, but she kept her eyes downcast, and once Ron was done, removed the phial, re-corked it and kept it back.

Ron's eyes never left her as she moved back, sniffed and pressed her lips together to bite back the sobs that came anyway and shook her frail body.

He placed an arm around her, and she hastily wiped her tears off and sniffed again.

"You gave us a nasty shock, mate," he said turning towards Ron.

"Sorry... didn't mean to," he replied in a scratchy, throaty voice, and Harry was sure he saw Hermione glared at the redhead. He smiled despite himself. He was only about wondering if he should leave his friends alone when Hermione moved further away from the bed.

"Harry, do you mind sitting here for a while, I'll be back in just a minute," she muttered consciously, looking at him for only a brief second before averting her blood-shot eyes away.

"Not at all," he told her, and she rushed out of the door in quick steps. As he turned away from her, he saw Ron's eyes were busy watching her retreating form. There was something in his friend's eyes, something he could not exactly place a finger on, something he had never seen before. Finally, when the door closed behind her, Ron turned his blue eyes to meet his green ones.

"Thanks mate, for getting her out," he said, with difficulty, and Harry silently promised that once Ron was all fit, he would kick him in the arse for being the dumb-headed, brave but moronic idiot that he was.

"I see they have drilled unnecessary good manners in you too, Ron," he blurted before he could stop himself and smiled as Ron's half-smile half-grimace graced his scarred face.

...

She walked inside the kitchen with apprehensive steps, noticing Fleur busy at the stove, stirring a pot with a ladle. The French beauty looked nothing like her snobbish self during the Triwizard Tournament. And perhaps for the first time, Hermione truly understood why the Goblet of Fire had chosen her. There was some deep strength in the part-Veela woman, something that she had seen in Molly too. It did not present itself in that daredevil way it did for Ron, Harry or Ginny, but it was there none the less- a subtle, serene sort of resilience and a motherly heart. She held back a whimper that choked her on its way down and fresh tears pooled in her eyes once more. Hermione sniffed without realising, and that caused the older girl to turn around, concern and worry marking her beautiful albeit tired features.

"Hermione?!" she called, taking quick steps to approach her.

"Ron is alright, isn't he?" she inquired, and Hermione had to swallow hard again before she could find her voice back.

"He is awake, talking to Harry," she replied with difficulty, not bothering to hide her tears, and noticed Fleur release a sigh of relief, before giving her a sad, understanding smile.

"The soup is almost ready," she said kindly indicating back at the pot. "And I 'ave some fresh bread as well, he needs strength but can take only light food now," she added and Hermione nodded.

It was oddly conflicting how much she craved for Mrs Weasley now considering she had known the motherly witch only for a few months, but at the same time, she was more than glad that the Weasley matriarch did not have to see her son in the condition he was in. She longed for a womanly company, someone who would understand her pain without her having to express it in words.

"Are you alright?" asked Fleur and she nodded in negative, shaking her head slightly, head bent low and downcast eyes barely holding back the pools that were filled to the brim.

She barely registered when she was pulled and made to sit on a chair; the long held tears spilled over and ran down in streams.

"I can imagine how hard it must be for you," said the older girl kindly, rubbing her knuckles with her fairer palm, and Hermione's body shook with silent sobs that rocked her from within.

She did not bother to wipe away the tears but did look up at the woman who had stood by her for the past two days, fighting alongside to keep Ron from slipping away. The gratitude she felt could never be put in words, it could never be repaid back.

"Thank you, Fleur... for everything," she managed in a choked voice but only after a few long minutes.

Fleur sniffed a little herself and smiled sadly.

"He is family, and so are you and 'arry," she replied.

"I-I thought we had ..." she paused unable to go further as the memory of barely a while ago resurfaced. The way his chest wounds had glowed a deep red just after they had administered that new potion which was supposed to work wonders; it was a signal that something was wrong, very wrong. She remembered the way his eyes had opened in a flash and then closed in a slow motion, like it was performing that action for the last time, and that soft sigh that had escaped from his lips and almost stopped her heart. She barely heard anything after Fleur had screamed for Bill, and told her to keep Ron awake, and she had mechanically picked up her wand and cast a spell that stopped the potion from working, a small but crucial bit of information she had picked up from somewhere during her intensive research. And then she had called out for Ron, over and over again. The details were all fuzzy now. And when finally, after what felt like an eternity, Ron opened his eyes, she had cried- in relief and fear of what could have happened- what had almost happened.

"We almost had, but you brought him back," she said soothingly. Hermione could do nothing but shake her head.

"No... I-I almost got him killed," she sobbed, "It was my mistake that we were captured, and I only watched while they tortured him," she cried looking guiltily at the other girl. Could she hate herself any more?

"I should have never listened to him," she went on, "Never followed his plan of acting as if I was never with the Order. I should have never listened to Ron and pretended that I was loyal to the Dark Lord all this time, pretended like I was only bidding my time to get back to the Death Eaters! He said it would buy us time to escape. But what did we get? I could have lost Ron in that cell! I could have lost him today! I should have never let them do what they did to him... I should have been there, with him in that cell, taking half of everything they did to him..." she cried harder into her hands, not bothering to see if Fleur hated her for it. She deserved it, every bit of it.

"I don't deserve Ron..." she confessed once her tired eyes stopped producing more tears, while her head hung low.

"I can't understand everything, Hermione, but I can say one thing for sure. What Ron did, he did to keep you safe, and what you did, probably brought him back alive. No two people deserve each other more than those who are willing to take death for the sake of the other," Fleur declared firmly and pressed her hand over Hermione's. And despite all her guilt, Hermione realised she wanted to believe her.

"Bill should be back soon," she said looking away, Hermione was sure to hide her own worry.

"Take this soup to Ron, I'll come up in a while and help you with getting his bandages changed," she instructed, plating up food for her youngest brother-in-law and handing Hermione the same.

"I'll do it, you take rest," she answered with a tired but grateful smile and before she could rethink or analyse her actions, placed the tray on the table and hugged the older girl.

...

She went up to find Ron propped up on the pillows against the head-rest and both the boys chatting softly, so she cleared her throat, and as two sets of eyes turned to her, she focused on the tray and entered.

"You need to eat," she declared placing the tray on the table. Harry scooted away to take the spare chair, and she sat herself down on the bed next to Ron. She could feel his eyes on her, but could not still look up because there was a flood of emotions barely held in place by sheer will, ready to crack any moment. She wasn't sure if she wanted them out now, and especially in front of Ron. But keeping them in check while those eyes watched her so intently and unwaveringly was no easy task.

She picked up the bowl of chicken soup, and taking a spoonful, blew on it, feeling his eyes still taking in her face.

"Err... I'll see if I can grab a cup of tea for myself," mumbled Harry in the background, and soon, there were sounds of footsteps leaving the room and the door shutting with a soft click.

She placed the now moderately warm spoon next to his lips, watching only the article and the place it touched, and he took a sip, yet again without looking away from her face. Taking the spoon off, she broke off a chunk of bread, dipped it into the soup and brought it to his lips. He opened his mouth and took it, his lips grazing her fingers just about a little, and she felt his breath on her skin as her own breath hitched.

Hermione looked up at his eyes finally, realising that she perhaps had stopped living these few days. His blue orbs found and remained locked with her brown ones, speaking in a silent tongue all that he had expressed by his actions in that cellar days ago. It spoke of his love and his silent plea for forgiveness. His face was still heavy with scars that she knew would take long to dissolve and blend into his pale complexion. As Fleur had said a couple of days back, they were marks of his bravery, but in this case, they were also a stark reminder of her guilt.

She looked away as fresh tears pooled in her eyes once more, and her hazy gaze reached his bare torso that was wrapped with gauges and cotton, soaked in salves and ointments.

She looked away, forcing herself to concentrate on his meal. He hadn't had anything in days after all. But the next time he took the bread from her fingers, he brought his hand up to hold her tenderly in his own.

" 'Mione," he called, and the dam broke, causing steady streams to cascade down her cheeks only to be wiped away by his fingers. She knew his arms were still hurting, especially his shoulders, and sure enough, he winced a little as he brought his arm down to hold hers.

"Why are you crying?" he asked tenderly, although his voice was still raw and scratchy, and a few more drops fell down from her cheeks into his hand.

She sniffed away and tried pulling her hand free, but he held on.

"You need to eat, and then take a few potions," she responded without meeting his eyes.

"Have you eaten?" he asked instead.

She nodded in affirmative. She had had a couple of toasts; that counted as eating. But he laughed a little, and she sucked in a breath because she had feared she would never get to hear that sound again.

"And, did you sleep?" he asked.

"Yes," she murmured noncommittally and pulling her hand away, fed him another spoonful of soup and a couple of pieces of bread. He took them obediently from her before speaking further.

"And since when have you started lying to me again?" he asked with a soft chuckle, and she met his eyes this time.

"Ever since you decided it would be a good idea to die and leave me alone," she replied cutting off his smile.

"I only wanted you safe, 'Mione," he reasoned sadly. She could hear the pleading in his voice, see it in his eyes, but the dam she had held on to, had finally burst. She knew it wasn't his fault but the pain was rendering her insane.

"When will you ever realise that you are all I have, Ron?" she asked looking straight at his eyes even as they pooled up again, and her voice cracked. She hastily wiped the moisture off with the back of her hand and inhaled deeply. His eyes softened so much at her words that she had to look away, lest she lost her anger in that love.

"How could you doubt me, Ron?!" she cried, this time, looking away. "How could you let that Horcrux touch what we had? How could you fall for that trap?"

Her eyes found the wounds on his chest again and pulled them away because each one of those reminded her how he had got them, and how she had stood, watching.

"I am sorry... for everything," he mumbled, and the sincerity of his words pulled painfully at her heart strings. So he looked at him again, cupping his cheeks tenderly with her palm, careful not to touch any injury. He closed his eyes at her touch, and she panicked for a second and then relaxed noticing him heave a sigh and the small smile that played on his lips. That is when she realised that the pain and hurt the Horcrux had given them would not go away so soon, but they could heal each other together.

"I should have been there with you in that cell," she managed after a while and felt his hands grip her harder.

"NO!" he retorted, opening his eyes sharply.

"When will you realise, that I'd go through all that again if I have to, just to keep you safe?" he asked, and she lost it then. Pressing her face carefully on his shoulder, she grasped his hands in her own. She thought she heard him wince, but he pulled her closer when she tried to move, and there was a deep sigh from him that mingled with hers.

She allowed the pain to take over, knowing only this man could heal it.

"I'm sorry..." she breathed in between whimpers. She knew he wasn't fit enough to handle all this. She knew, he had almost got poisoned again, and all their hopes of his smooth recovery lay on Bill finding an alternate potion, but she also knew that some words in life had to be said when one had the chance, especially when one was in the heart of a war.

"Please don't leave me, Ron," she murmured, not caring if it sounded like begging, she only knew, she needed him and he needed to know just how much.

"Y-You don't know how it w-was for me to s-see you that way..." she said pulling him closer, needing his presence to envelope her, craving to feel his beating heart next to hers.

"I really love you more than life, 'Mione," he breathed quietly into her hair, and she almost choked on her sob.

"I'd die a thousand times to keep you safe, you know?" he added and she pushed him away.

"I'll kill anyone who tries to touch you, Ron. I mean it," she told him softly, fiercely.

...

Minutes later, when Fleur came up with her husband and opened the door to the small bedroom, she found a freshly bandaged Ron looking over a sleeping form of Hermione who lay on the bed beside him, curled over the blanket, holding Ron's arms in her hands.

Her husband looked at her questioningly, "Shouldn't we shift her to her room?" he asked softly, handing her the phial he had brought, and she only smiled and shook her head in negative.

It was the first time the poor girl had slept without being force fed a Dreamless Sleeping Draught; no one was going to wake Hermione as long as she had a say in the matter.

* * *

 _ **A/N: Immensely sorry for the delay, was caught up in multiple things.**_

 _ **I have done away with Fleur's accent because it plays havoc on the grammar editor.**_ _ **Thanks to each one of you who were kind enough to leave a review. Thanks for reading and needless to say, I am looking forward to your responses eagerly.**_


	56. Healing Together

**A/N: I just saw an update request as I was uploading this. Here you go Ron'sLoverMahima.**

* * *

 **Chapter 55: Healing Together**

It was her whimpering that woke him up from the light slumber. The sunlight seeping in through the gaps in the curtains was enough to make the surrounding visible, which clearly meant that he had not been asleep for very long, perhaps a little more than Hermione though.

He turned to his left with difficulty noting that somehow his hand was no longer held between hers. Hermione lay curled on her side, and even though she seemed to be fast asleep, her body shook with every small whimper that escaped her lips. Her forehead was marked with deep worry lines. The agonised expressions on her face a clear indication that she was caught in some kind of a nightmare.

He was just about to wake her up when her sobs got louder and she thrashed around as if invisible arms were restraining her from reaching out to someone.

"NO!" she sobbed as tears escaped her still closed eyes, "Please! Please! Don't hurt him!" she pleaded leaving him utterly shocked at the amount of distress and agony behind those words. Managing to turn around with much difficulty, he placed his arm on her shoulder.

"Hermione," he called softly as she continued to thrash around, her cries getting louder by the minute.

"PLEASE NO! RON!" she screamed hard as her body shook with tremors, and ignoring the intensive ache that tore through his aching muscles, Ron pushed himself up and placed both his palms on her face. Tears were pricking his eyes and threatening to escape but he held on. He took a deep breath before bringing his face closer to hers.

"Shhh...'Mione... It's okay, we are safe now, it's okay," he consoled hoarsely.

His voice was throaty and it ached to speak but he couldn't care less about himself. Her arms frayed till it touched his wrists, and Ron just about managed to hold back from wincing aloud as her fingers clasped hard over his sensitive skin. His touch seemed to soothe her and he decided a little more pain would not make much of a difference, especially if it helped Hermione in any way.

"Ron," she whimpered again, but softer this time, and he rubbed his thumb on her cheeks, wiping away the moisture from them.

"I'm right here, with you...Relax..." he murmured in her ears and continued to hold her till the tremors died down and her breathing normalised. Only when he was sure she was fast asleep once more, he let her go, moving back to a position where his back hurt marginally less. But he allowed her to hold on to one of his hands and taking in the sight of her tired face, let out a sigh.

The effect of the potion that Fleur had given to him after Hermione had fallen asleep was beginning to wane. He knew because the burning sensation in the wound on his chest was coming back. A little longer, perhaps a few more hours, and it would start bleeding- at least that is what she had told him. The potion they had given earlier had reacted with something to turn it toxic, so much so that without Hermione's quick thinking, he would have been dead by now. Though the spell had effectively stopped the poison from spreading, restricting it within the wound and its vicinity, it was still present in his system. The potion his Mum had sent was supposed to help flush the toxins out of his body- with a generous amount of his blood of course.

But the worst was over; at least his sister-in-law had told him as much. He let out a mirthless chuckle at those words. He looked at the sleeping girl again. She looked bone tired and weak. He knew she would not have slept for days now, and even when she did, her dreams were surely marred with nightmares ever present to haunt her. That was inevitable considering what they had gone through, and he wished someone would know how to heal these injuries that were marked into their very bones. While the external ones were being treated, the ones that could not be seen were left to fester and grow.

He could not help compare her to the glowing girl who had been rescued by the Order almost a couple of years ago. The war had taken a toll not just on her mind but her body as well. She had lost weight and the pink hue that used to grace her cheeks was now replaced with deep circles under her eyes. Her hair was a mess, tired carelessly in a bun. She looked so fragile that it hurt him more than all his wounds put together.

His mind went back to the moments after their capture. Even now his blood boiled remembering the taunts and jeers the filthiest of men had thrown at her. He couldn't even begin to imagine the fate she had escaped by an inch. Ron knew the frustration and rage for not having knocked the living daylights out of those bastards would haunt him for all eternity. And then there was his torture.

His plan, more importantly, her acting skills might have saved his life but it came with a heavy price. And it came as an eye-opener. All those doubts that plagued his heart during the start of the hunt felt like grumbling of an immature heart. What did he face? Just a couple of Voldemort's goons and his lieutenant, perhaps? But Harry had no choice but to defeat the evilest wizard himself or die in the process. True that all of them were in the heart of the war, and predicting the number of people who would survive was downright impossible, but finishing it was a burden only Harry had on his shoulder. Hermione and he could help and walk with him till the end, but eventually, Harry would have to travel the last steps alone. For once he really understood the truth of the deal that they had been dealt with. A breath seemed to be caught in his chest adding to the pain. All these years of trying to keep the kid safe and now they were tenaciously taking him towards what could easily be his doom. And why? For the greater good. For every Horcrux they found and finished, Harry was a step closer to dealing with what he had just been through, quite possibly worse. There would be no shield to guard him, no lie to keep him safe. Isn't that what the Prophesy said, that Harry would have to be the one to finish Voldemort? He had a fleeting image of taking his best mate and running away to some far-off land and he let out a low mirthless chuckle. Like that was even possible.

He glanced once again at the face he loved to the point of insanity before turning away.

The last shield guarding her had been thrown away too. Harry had told him how she had fought her way out of the Manor. If anything, it would have only made the Death Eaters even more thirsty for her blood now. He looked at his partly healed, weakened self. How would he keep them out of harm's way unless he got up and was ready to fight again? Whatever they had faced was only just the beginning, it would be foolish not to know that.

How much his torture had affected her was open for anyone to see. He felt terribly small remembering all that he felt earlier about his position in the quest. Now it seemed like Dumbledore had left him the easiest job, something he would have done anyway- keeping his best mate safe, keeping the girl he loved safe. Would he have survived if the situations were reversed? Would he have managed to keep his cover if Bellatrix had been torturing her instead? His heart thudded so madly at the thought that he sat up despite all his aches and turned towards her. Every ache, every burn was better than that thought. Physical pain he could take, heck, he could even take death, but he would not survive if they took her.

He placed his free hand delicately on her forehead and pushed aside the curl that fell on her face and placed a tender hand on her cheek. Watching the mesmerising motion of the rise and fall of her chest he exhaled a sigh that hurt somewhere beyond his physical self.

 _She was safe, she was breathing. They had not been able to touch her or..._

Yes, she was broken but he would see to it that she healed. He would do whatever it took to make her well again. He would be whatever she wanted him to be, he would hold her till everything that was broken within her mended.

Ron watched as Hermione scooted closer to him let out a soft, satisfied sigh as their bodies touched; he let out a breath that was almost the same as hers. He wondered why he had never felt this sensation before, or perhaps he had but his self-doubts had overshadowed it. The touch soothed his soul. Hermione seemed to be radiating a feeling of comfort that was beyond anything he had felt in a long time. It was like a fresh breeze that healed the deepest wounds of his heart. Her touch was familiar, almost like a part of himself he had been searching for all this while- it was like coming home. He sighed softly and lay down next to her, and despite all his aches and burns, sleep claimed him soon after.

...

It was much later in the night and the house was silent when Ron woke up to intense pain in his chest. A lone candle was burning in the candle stand that was placed on the dresser. The light kept the darkness out but only barely.

He tried breathing through his mouth and had to eventually resort to clamping his knuckles between his teeth when nothing else helped. His breath was beginning to come out in gasps as the searing sensation aggravated, leaving him no choice but to pull his left hand out of Hermione's arms.

She was still fast asleep next to him. She fidgeted a little at the loss of contact, her brows scrunching before she relaxed once more, and he watched with baited breath, absolutely unwilling to wake her up. Finally, certain that he had not disturbed her sleep he pulled off the sheet that covered his torso and looked down. Sure enough, the medicated gauze that covered the wound on his midriff was blood soaked.

"Fucking hell," he muttered silently and placed his aching legs on the floor. His knees hurt, perhaps not as much as his other wounds, but still sore enough to make him worry about their capability to hold his weight up if he somehow achieved the daunting task of pulling himself up on his feet.

He could perhaps stretch and reach the table that held his healing potions, he thought, but it was seriously doubtful that he would manage that without causing more harm to his already injured muscles.

Using the bed as leverage, he pushed himself up on his wobbly legs, and inched towards the table, one agonising step after another. The pyjama bottoms he wore, although soft, but still somehow managed to irritate the recently healed skin as it rubbed over them. It was frustration on a totally different level. Each step he took seemed to tear the muscles in his legs and cause a definite shortness of breath, but he edged on. A few steps more and he would be able to dab the ointment Fleur had left at the table for this very scenario. The short-lived moment of vindication gave way to a groan as his legs buckled the moment he reached the spare chair and he swore loudly both at his clumsiness as well as the pain that almost knocked him out. However, before he hit the ground, two hands managed to catch him.

"Did you really need to do this alone?" admonished Harry, helping him towards the bed.

"Hey, when did you get here?" he asked wincing slightly and groaned again when he heard a small gasp from his left.

"Ron?! What are you doing?" Hermione asked in a voice laced heavily with sleep although she was currently sitting straight up.

"Bloody hell, I take a few steps and wake up the entire household, I feel like a dumb kid or something," he grumbled and Harry chuckled.

"You got the last part right, mate," he snickered and Ron glared at him for a moment before grinning back himself. Hermione, however, let out an impatient sound and then clambered down in front of them, pulling her hair back in a bun while holding her wand between her teeth.

"What happened?" she inquired stuffing the wood inside her pocket, her brows crunched in worry.

"Ron was practising ballet to impress you," snorted Harry and Ron swatted him on the head, wincing immediately.

"Oi!" barked Harry, grinning, although the proof of days of exhaustion was blandly visible on his features.

Hermione shot both of them a glare that was freakishly similar to McGonagall's before lighting a few more candles, but Ron did notice a faint smile as she turned towards the timepiece on the wall. And despite all the pain, he realised that he felt marginally better already.

"What-!" she exclaimed noting the time and turned around so fast that he thought she would Apparate out of the room. He chuckled to himself but it died the moment her eyes landed on his chest and she gasped aloud, tears springing to her eyes instantly.

"Ron!" she motioned in a choked voice indicating his bare torso, and he grimaced as the pain that had simmered to an annoying but familiar pulsation chose that instant to come up again in full force.

He just about realised Hermione shooting frantic directions to Harry before he was made to lie down and Hermione busied herself at the table.

"There is a potion- Mum sent-" he managed with difficulty, breathing heavily and fisting his fingers tightly as the sting pulsed intensely bringing moisture to his eyes and causing him to heave.

He almost screamed aloud the moment her fingers touched the gauze to remove it.

"It's okay, it's will be alright," she consoled him although teary herself. He concentrated on his breathing while she removed the blood soaked cotton pad and wiped off the blood. Ron distinctly heard her sniff aloud as she moved, and soon, there was something pleasantly cold being poured into the wound; he relaxed a little taking in short, sharp gasps of air.

A moment later, or perhaps longer, he couldn't exactly say for sure, Harry helped lift his head a little and Hermione brought a goblet to his lips which he drank from thirstily, letting out a sigh, and closing his eyes as the pain slowly began to abate.

"Better, mate?" Harry inquired minutes later and he managed a smile for the sake of his friends, took in deep breaths and opened his eyes. He tried lifting himself to a sitting position but Hermione placed a gentle hand on his shoulder, shaking her head. Her face had a steady stream of tears and she turned away the moment their eyes met, sniffing softly. He turned towards Harry and noticed that the boy had practically gone white, but there was a definite stiffening of his jaws.

"Don't tell me you were standing at the door, waiting for me to make a fool of myself, and then, come running to my rescue like a fucking hero or something," he snickered with difficulty, attempting to break the tension.

Harry chuckled softly, mirthlessly to be more accurate, and shook his head.

"I woke up and needed a drink so was off to the kitchen, but then I thought I'll check on you for a moment," he furnished unconvincingly. Ron had a very strong suspicion that his best friend was lying. Quite possibly, Harry had been unable to sleep at all and was walking outside keeping a watch, but he didn't voice out his thoughts aloud, choosing instead to nod a little. Hermione, however, did exactly that.

"You are a horrible liar, Harry!" she sighed and Ron was glad to note that she sounded a little more in control. Going back to the table she picked a phial, and pouring a few drops of it in a goblet of water, brought it out to him.

"Drink up," she ordered before turning towards him.

"A Dreamless Sleeping potion," she said, "Looks like we will need to brew ample batches of it this time," she muttered to herself before turning to Harry again.

"Will you be alright sharing with Ron?" she asked consciously and Ron could distinctly make out her reluctance to leave.

"Nope, I'll head to the other bedroom," replied Harry, "Fleur has strictly stated that no one is to keep you away from Ron after she saw you fall asleep without this thing," he said lifting his now empty goblet. Ron felt that there was something else too, something that perhaps Harry didn't want to say in front of Hermione. He made a mental note to ask about it later.

"She has barely slept all these nights," Harry told him indicating the girl who was blushing profusely now, and just like that, without saying anything more, Ron knew his friend took back all those horrid moments they had had in the forest, thanks to the Horcrux. There was an understanding, and an apology and also a glint of happiness like the raven-haired boy had been waiting for his friends to admit this for a long time now. Ron knew, a lot many explanations were still due but Harry stifled a yawn and he decided that all that could wait.

"I'll be off," said the younger boy, patting his shoulder lightly and then moved towards Hermione. Giving her a one-armed squeeze, he murmured something in her ears and she blushed harder. Ron couldn't help feeling a little annoyed.

"By the way, Fleur left you guys your dinner, you just need to warm it up," Harry added indicating the dresser where, now that he noticed, were two heavily laden trays.

"'night, guys," said the boy and left.

"What did the prat say?" he asked the moment the door locked behind his best mate.

"Nothing," she said much too quickly and turned away towards the dresser.

He waited till she warmed the food, brought one tray, and sat down next to him on the bed. He took a bite of the bread she offered him and before she could put the rest down, guided her hand towards her mouth, forcing her to take a bite too.

"I have my own," she told him softly but only after she had finished the morsel in her mouth.

"We share whatever we have," he told her, tucking a curl behind her ear, allowing his fingers to linger just a little longer on her skin than necessary. The memories of the Horcrux haunted him still, but by some strange twist of fate, his touch seemed to soothe her, and he decided he could fight his inner battles another day. For now, he would give this girl whatever she needed. Of course, never again would he allow anyone to touch her without her permission, not even himself.

"Is it true that you didn't sleep?" he asked while she picked up a piece of bacon and brought it to his mouth.

Hermione bit her lips in that familiar fashion that Ron realised would always make his heart yearn for her and he exhaled softly before he bit from the fork.

"I..." she began and then gulped before continuing. He knew she had tears in her eyes again because she didn't look up. "I couldn't," she said in a very small voice.

This was insane and frustrating. He could see how much she was hurting and while he had a trunk full of potions and salves, was there nothing that could heal her wounds?

"'Mione," he whispered placing his palms gently on his cheeks, and she dropped the tray on her lap to place her free hand over his as tears trickled down her cheeks.

"Every time I sleep-" she sniffed and gulped hard as if trying to pull the last strands of strength to go on.

"-I see you in the dungeons," she whispered hoarsely and hiccupped in an attempt to continue. "I see her hurting y-you while I just stand and watch!" she cried indignantly and more tears rolled down. "I do nothing, Ron! Nothing... I-I let them..." she finally broke down completely, and Ron managed to pull the tray out of her hand, keep it aside and pull her to his chest. His wounds were not healed, and they throbbed under the bandages but he couldn't care less. Hermione curled into him, flushed against his body, her face pressed over his heart and sobbed uncontrollably. So he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her in closer, burying his face in her neck.

After a long time, when her sobs finally turned to soft whimpers, he removed his hands to give her space, but it seemed she was quite contented staying encased in his embrace so he wrapped his aching arms around her again.

"You saved me," he told her softly but with utter conviction. "You know that, don't you? At the time, it was only your lies that kept me alive... You did the bravest thing possible, love, something neither Harry nor I could have ever done, I am telling you. You brought me back, you and Harry," he murmured. "And you saved me again this morning, why don't you think of that?"

"But we got captured because of me, Ron!" she cried again, trying to pull out from his arms but, this time, he held on.

"We both know it was my fault. If I... well, if I hadn't done what I had done, you wouldn't have been so angry with me..." he told her. It seemed a lifetime away, but some guilt probably chased you to your grave, he thought.

It was a while before she spoke.

"Do you know why I was so angry?" she asked slowly and he snorted.

"It's obvious, isn't it? I am surprised you still let me hold you," he replied remorsefully. She pushed him off and he let her go imagining that this perhaps was the time when she would remember how angry she was with him and walk off. But to his surprise, she was still there and those brown eyes that were looking at him still held love- a lot of pain too, yes but a lot of adoration as well. He didn't know how he deserved it, but he felt immensely blessed.

"I was angry because you didn't trust me, Ron, because the Horcrux poisoned what we had and you allowed it to. You allowed that –that _thing_ to malign what we had built over time. True, we had a terrible start, but how many people go through what we did together, Ron? I found you when I had nothing, no one. Everyone else I have now, be it Harry or Ginny or anyone else for that matter, I got them through you. How could you be stupid enough to think I fancy Harry? Or that I was-" she stopped and took a couple of deep breaths which Ron was sure to control her temper. He was feeling rather foolish and guilty himself. He couldn't tell her all that the Horcrux had been putting in his head, about the mission, about his family, about all his insecurities, but at least she was right about the part about them.

"I fell in love with you before I even knew Harry," she continued softly. "Harry is like a brother, we both lost our parents to this war... he knows what it feels like to be an orphan, to be pulled into a battlefield. I love him but not like I love you. " she sighed and looked away before she continued. But Ron had eyes only for her.

"I fell in love with the guy who saved me in the Room of Requirements, the guy who did not hesitate to take the attacks of the Whomping Willow in my place even though I had hardly cared about his safety. I had intentionally taken him there- and he knew my plans all along, but despite that he still stood by me, kept me safe. I fell in love with the guy who held me on when I was broken after losing my parents and everything I thought I knew about the world and about myself. I fell in love with the guy who trusted me when I was scared to trust myself. I fell in love with the guy who pulled me out of a collapsing tower, the guy who took on Alastor Moody to ensure my safety, who fought for him to believe me, to trust me. I fell in love with the guy I have hurt so many times over, and even when he said he hated me, he kept me safe, he cared, he gave me new friends and a family who took me in as their own. I love the guy who might have got influenced by the Locket but stopped himself in time, the one who took on an unfathomable amount of torture, and by doing so, kept me out of harm's way." She met his eyes finally and he wondered how he would ever tell her what he felt, he wasn't even half as good with words as she was.

"I never stopped loving him, Ron..." she said as her eyes met his own, and when she came closer to bridge the tiny amount of distance between them, he closed his eyes.

He allowed her to take control of the kiss. Merlin knew how much he craved for her, but he still went slow and felt rather than heard her impatient sigh as her lips ran over his cracked ones and demanded entrance. He obliged, allowing her to decide the pace, and following her just a step behind. Ron always knew that Hermione had some kind of a magical hold over him, something he detested in the initial days of his duty as her guard. But now, he felt blessed, he felt owned by her and it was barmy how much that joy thought gave him. Her closeness and fragrance gave him something to hold on to; in the world that was dark and dangerous, she was the light, the ray of hope, a promise of a future that he wanted so desperately. He pulled her closer to his chest and slowly, but certainly began to reciprocate in kind; the familiar, satisfied sigh telling him that it was what she wanted. Entangling his fingers in the curls at her nape he bared his heart in the kiss and hoped she understood. He also realised that only their love had the power to heal all the injuries they had sustained- physical or otherwise.

..

Hermione curled deeper into his embrace as Ron finally took control, her heart beating a little faster than before, perhaps feeling a little stronger too. She knew he would hold back, but eventually, together they could bring back what they had almost lost.

They broke apart after a long time but she didn't move away, neither did his hold on her slacken. Rather, she placed her head gently on his chest listening to his heartbeat and pulling strength from it. Ron would get better, she would see to it. And then, when he was strong enough, she would give back to Bellatrix and Lucius all that they deserved.

"By the way, Harry told me he is officially handing over all your rights to me," she told him very softly with a smile that refused to leave and loved the laughter that emanated from somewhere deep inside his chest.

* * *

 _ **A/N:**_ This took an enormous amount of time. I only hope you all are happy with the result. It was this chapter where they were supposed to do _it._ But I had to drop that plan because Ron seriously is not fit enough now. But he will be better soon and Hermione will come out stronger. Harry has a lot to tell his friends, and as for Bellatrix and Lucius... well, let's say- they don't know what is coming their way.

The response I have received from you guys is amazing. I am so honoured and flattered with all those fantastic reviews you send me. Lots of love to all. You guys are amazing.

 **N.B:** To those of you who are following A Bad Case of Amnesia, I will update it next week. The two stories are so different that I need time to get out of one before I start penning the other.


	57. Owned

**A/N:**

 **Warning: This chapter contains Smut, a little angst and smut and some more smut. Warning done; now read on.**

* * *

 **Chapter 56: Owned**

Ron looked up at the timepiece once again before glancing sideways at his softly snoring friend. It was quarter past two in the morning and the house was silent except for the soft gushing sound from the sea outside. The flame of the lone candle burning in the bracket flickered in the breeze that wafted in through one open window.

She was late.

He looked down at his button down pyjama shirt, wincing slightly at the dull throbbing that had begun in his midriff and sighed softly before placing his hands under his head on the pillow. Breathing silently in the equally quiet night he couldn't help notice how easy it was to breathe now that his lungs and chest didn't hurt anymore. In fact, most of his injuries had healed. And it was about time too, it was almost ten days to the day they had come down here to Shell Cottage after all.

Pulling out his right hand he flexed his fingers, glancing briefly at his scarred wrist. Most if not all of his wounds were now dry, scratchy cakes of congealed blood and tissues. It was crazy how many marks he would have left on his body if they didn't dissolve, the worst ones being the one on his cheeks and the one on his midriff- a wound that was still healing and needed dressing six times a day. And that was not counting the bruises on his back. The way she winced every time she applied salves on it made him sure that they looked just as awful as they felt scratching against his clothing.

That brought his thoughts back to Hermione. He missed having her next to him during the nights. But once he no longer needed as frequent dressings as before, she had been the one to suggest that it would be awkward for them to share a room any longer. She still came in during the nights, though, to timely dress the one persistent wound, and Ron secretly waited for that hour even though it entailed a fresh surge of pain as the new potions were administered. He glanced at the timepiece again and wondered if she had dozed off tonight. It would be good actually- Merlin knew, she needed some straight hours of undisturbed sleep. And it wasn't like no one else had volunteered to be his nurse; Fleur had and so had a slightly unsure Harry. But Hermione had flatly refused to hand that duty over, and Ron, though a tad bit guilty for her sake, realised that he liked this arrangement a hell lot better.

Harry let out a soft grunt in his sleep and turned away. The boy had been put on regular doses of Sleeping Potion, something Hermione insisted was necessary to keep his sanity and their mission alive. She wasn't wrong. Even though he didn't say it aloud, Ron knew Harry blamed himself for their capture and everything that happened at the Malfoy Manor. It was bloody barmy but it was something Harry always did- held himself responsible for everything wrong that happened to people near him. That bloke needed sleep and peace. However, that second item on their list was not much in sight.

Their plans to tackle the Horcruxes were still hanging on Ron's recovery, and he hated himself for slowing the other two down. Voldemort had already acquired the Elder Wand and it had freaked him out when Harry had confided in them with all that he had found out from his visions and Olivander. Even Hermione had gone a few shades paler before vehemently insisting that the wand was unlucky anyway, and Harry could never retrieve the wand that way. Personally, Ron felt sick to the pit of his stomach imagining the foul creature with that final weapon but for the sake of his friends and their moral, he had kept his mouth firmly shut. At least they each had a wand now and were safe enough to sit and plan their next course of action. It brought them to the next and most important thing on their list- the Horcruxes.

It had been a difficult and an uncomfortable topic, but they had finally discussed the details of finishing the Locket and owning Gryffindor's Sword. They were definitely in a better position to finish another Horcrux if and when they found it. But apart from that, they were exactly where they were earlier- clueless about the location of the next piece of Voldemort's soul. Try as he might, Ron hadn't been able to stop those last images from bombarding his senses and the ever observant Hermione had pressed her soft hands over his, _each and every time_. It was a silent agreement between the three not to discuss what the Horcrux had shown them. He, on his part, was not sure what he was supposed to feel anymore. On one hand, he wanted to confess to Hermione and beg forgiveness and take an oath never to touch her again, on just the other, he wanted to wrap himself around her and keeping holding on to her, knowing that only she had the power to rid him of the pain. The guilt of his past deeds, however, couldn't be done away easily with.

His inner monologue was broken by hurried footsteps that approached outside and, sure enough, the very next minute the door was pushed open to reveal a flustered Hermione.

"Oh, Ron! I'm so sorry I'm late!" she admitted in hushed tones and hurriedly tied her hair into a knot while making her way towards the side-table.

She looked like she had rushed out after having woken up from deep slumber just as Ron had imagined. She was wearing an old wide necked tee that used to be Tonks' and he noticed guiltily that, despite the charms to alter the size, it no longer fit her as well it used to. In fact, at the very moment, it was slightly off her left shoulder, displaying the thin strap of her bra. Wasn't she supposed to rid the undergarments when she slept? But perhaps these night calls prohibited her of that comfort too. He squirmed slightly at the effect of his thoughts. He knew he was getting better physically because for the past two or three nights, these night-time rituals had been stirring emotions in him he wanted to keep away from. In a way, it was good that their sleeping arrangements were not as before.

But she was here now, walking purposefully towards his bed with a potion in her hand. He sat up straight, folding his legs to give her enough space to sit.

She went through the routine with practised ease. Handing him the phial, she scooted closer giving him a whiff of her fragrance that was enough to send his senses into a frenzy, so, he held on to the phial tightly and watched as she began to unbutton his shirt. His eyes moved over to her exposed skin, realising that at some point she had lit a few more candles and the room was brighter than before. She finished unbuttoning his shirt and pulled it off him with Ron shivering ever so slightly as her fingers grazed his bare skin.

"I-I'm sorry but a few on your back need to dressing too," she mumbled while her cheeks turned crimson. With the number of times they had done this, touching him should have come easily to her by now, while he was supposed to get accustomed to the feeling of her delicate fingers touching him. However, it was obvious that neither of them had adapted enough to their proximity to not get affected by it.

He nodded, slightly groaning to himself, as she pulled her tee back to cover herself before biting her lips once more. Ron didn't know what it was but somehow she seemed more flustered today. He did as he was told, and once he was facing the headrest, she took away the phial from his hand. The next minute, soft fingers were spreading a burning substance on his lower back. He sucked in a deep breath and released it slowly at the contradictory sensations that were bombarding his senses. But then she notched the whole thing higher as she placed the phial on the floor and gripped his shoulder with her free hand. That action brought another ache, a pleasant one this time, as her nails grazed his skin while she applied some more medication on his back. She moved away after a while to fix gauze to hold the medication in, and Ron utilised those few minutes to steady his breathing before turning around. She looked even more frazzled and before he could avert his eyes, they found her slightly heaving chest. He looked away hurriedly, guiltily.

"Lie down," she murmured in a strange little voice and he did as she asked. There was some strange kind of magic in the air, and he could literally hear his heart thumping as she came even closer. During the initial days after their escape, it was all about consoling each other; it was all about dealing with the pain and being together, physically and otherwise to heal each other. The nights that she spent with him involved a few kisses followed by snuggling and falling asleep together. They were much too broken and wounded to progress any further. Judging by his body's current reaction to her presence, it was obvious that he was making a good recovery.

"Done," she said after a while and he glanced down in shock.

"That didn't hurt at all," he told her.

"That's a good sign. It means the wound's healing," she declared smiling. It was small, barely a little upward curl of her lips but Ron couldn't take his eyes off her. Smiles were rare, especially the ones that reached the eye. As his eyes found her brown ones and remained locked on them, some sort of magic crackled in the air around them. Her smile turned shy and eyes dipped, moving over, if he was not mistaken, over his bare torso. The air around them felt warmer, and then the temperature increased sharply as she tentatively placed her palm over his chest. Her touch was bliss and he barely managed to hold back the sigh that escaped. Ron was sure she could feel if not hear his heart. But she didn't stop there; her fingers traced a path over his collarbone, reaching his shoulders, caressing the now-dry wound there with the pad of her thumb before returning once more to run her fingers on his chest.

"Hermione..." he whispered, immediately noticing the huskiness flood his voice.

"Yes, Ron?" she asked just as softly but with a hint of a mischievous smile. Bloody hell! She knew what she was doing and how it was affecting him. She sucked in a breath through her slightly parted lips and her bosom heaved enough to attract his attention towards them.

As his rotten luck would have it, Harry chose that precise moment to turn sideways, and although he was still fast asleep, Hermione jerked away from him guiltily at the noise. With her breathing still coming in gasps, she busied herself with keeping the phial back in its place and extinguishing the candles.

Once she was done, she came back to stand in front of him. Ron had not taken his eyes away from her since she had moved away, nor had he put his shirt back on.

She licked her lips as if poising for something difficult and then seemed to literally force herself to meet his eyes before speaking. Even in the dim light, her cheeks looked flushed.

"Erm... Are you sleepy?" she asked in a voice that begged for a negative answer and he chuckled softly.

"No, are you?" he inquired instead.

She nodded in negative and averted her gaze as he enjoyed watching her, "Want to chat for a while?"

"Sure," he replied noticing that the huskiness was back in his words. She seemed to notice it too for she met his eyes and fidgeted with the hem of her top before glancing at Harry. This probably wasn't the best idea. At the rate they were going it would be hard to keep his hands off her. At least he could trust his best mate to interrupt with a grunt or a snore if things went out of control, he thought dryly.

Surely Hermione was thinking the same.

"But we'll disturb him," she indicated and Ron snickered to himself. Clearly, their thoughts were on the point but also quite the opposite.

"So... what do you suggest?" he asked instead. _What was he expecting?_

"Well... we could go to my room,"

He could have growled. That was not the suggestion he wanted, well, perhaps he did. But didn't she know that it would strain the already feeble control he had over himself? What was she playing at? He met her eyes with his and the curtain of pretence dropped. There was nothing but raw want in her eyes and he was sure the same mirrored in his. It was dangerous and barmy but it was also something he was craving for.

He lifted himself up from the bed and stood towering over her. Merlin, she was almost a head shorter than him! At present, she looked so small and vulnerable that he had to literally use all his willpower to stop himself from picking her up in his arms and snogging her senseless. Well, snogging he could allow himself, but he feared he wouldn't be able to stop at that; he wanted more- so much more.

"Hermione," he heaved, and she finally dropped the act as she looked up at him.

"Please, Ron?" she asked getting closer and placing her palms flat on his skin. They scorched where they touched, at the same time igniting a passion that made it difficult to think straight. A feeble part of his brain begged him to stop. _You are going to hurt her, keep away!_ it screeched inside his head, and he faltered a little.

But before he could move back, she tugged on his arms and standing on her toes, placed her moist lips on his. He closed his eyes as a sigh escaped him involuntarily, his arms finding and wrapping around her thin waist, hitching her top up a few centimetres. As his palm found her bare skin, she moaned softly in his mouth and her arms wrapped around his neck. Ron bent a little to help her and her lips blended into his, tongue begging entrance. He lifted her then. His back groaned at the strain and the kiss broke much too quickly for either of their liking.

"Hermione, I-" he began but she placed a finger on his lips and with the fingers of the other hand entwined in his, pulled him out silently from the room.

...

The room Hermione used was smaller. It held two beds placed next to each other and a compact dresser. However, the window here was large and overlooked the sea. The moon was bright and the sky was clear with twinkling stars that spread across the sky and disappeared far into the horizon.

"Wow," he breathed as the curtains ruffled in the breeze.

"Why am I here, 'Mione?" he asked trying his best to ease his breathing. The moonlight streaming in gave her an ethereal glow. Getting a whiff of her intoxicating scent wasn't helping matters either.

She looked at their still entwined hands and licked her lips nervously, and just like that, without another word, pulled him to her bed.

As she sat them down, Ron could hardly find the words. It was not difficult to figure out what she wanted; her eyes were speaking loud enough. He scrambled up and stood unsure at the edge of the bed, and she looked up at him. He wanted to run away but he also wanted to take everything she was offering and, in return, shower her with everything he had. The locks that had escaped her bun were flying crazily around her face and he watched mesmerised as she struggled hard to lock them behind her ears, not taking her eyes off him.

"I need you, Ron... please..." _Didn't she know how much hold she had over him? How could he refuse those eyes?_

It was getting increasingly difficult for him to hold himself back. There was no way he could refuse and hurt her. But the apprehension in his heart was also rising rapidly. _What if he hurt her again?_

"Hermione, I-" he struggled, trying to put words in his sentence but failing miserably, while she continued to watch him. And then, all of a sudden she removed her hand from his, some sort of a resolve forming in her eyes. He took a deep breath of regret as well as a relief, but the very next minute he gasped, having forgotten how to breathe.

Hermione had pulled out her wand and locked the door. And then, making sure to maintain eye contact all the time, she dropped the wood on the bed and slowly pulled her top off, throwing it to join the wand on the bed. She came down to stand next to him. Ron had barely managed to wrap his head around the fact that Hermione was standing in front of him in her bra when, shocking him further, she pulled her pyjama bottom down.

"Fuck!" he swore in an undertone when he had found his voice as she wriggled out of the discarded item.

Ron could see her body flushing. He didn't know if it was due to the chill in the breeze or her sudden act of boldness. A feeble part of his brain told him to act. For Merlin sake, he was still standing like an idiot while the girl of his fantasies was literally stripping down in front of him.

Hermione had not stopped. Though flushed scarlet till the root of her hair and breathing heavy, she placed her hand behind her, and suddenly, the bra straps slid off her shoulders and came loose from her breasts.

"Oh fuck, Hermione!" he groaned and fisted hard. _Why was she making it so difficult for him?_ He was literally pulling every little strand of strength he had to not pounce down on her. But didn't she know he was losing the fight? All she had to do was look down at his pyjama bottoms to know it.

"Hermione, please..." he begged, collapsing on the bed and hiding his face in his hands.

He wanted her; he wanted her so bad that it hurt. But the visions of the Horcrux were still there at some dark corner of his memories. He could almost see a vapour form of Hermione begging him to stop as he thrust into her ruthlessly. How could he be sure that deep inside he was not the monster the Horcrux had shown them he was? How could he be sure that it was just an image and not something actual inside him that the Horcrux had found and latched on to? What if he really was evil? He had forced a kiss on her at Grimmauld Place, hadn't he? He had threatened to rape her in the infirmary. He couldn't even allow himself to touch her let alone make love to her. He didn't know what she was testing or how much longer he could hold on.

There was a soft pressure and he realised she had moved in between his thighs. Gently his hands were pried away from his face, and as difficult as it was, he kept his eyes trained on her face.

"Do you know how to get rid of nightmares, Ron?" she asked as her hands cupped his cheeks. He kept his hands firmly on his thighs and shook his head in negative.

"By creating some beautiful memories," she told him.

"I can't, Hermione... I shouldn't..." he managed with difficulty.

"'Shouldn't' what, Ron? Touch me? Kiss me? Make love to me?"

He exhaled. "All of those," he mumbled.

"Why?"

"Come on, 'Mione! I ... how do you even allow me to see you?" he cried softly, anguished.

She chuckled softly. "-because I am yours, perhaps?"

He looked up and was lost in her eyes. The amount of love that was pouring out her was drowning him and making him come alive at the same time. Ron grasped her by the shoulder and pulled her to him, crushing his dying lips on her blissful ones, closing his eyes as her fragrance engulfed him. It didn't take long for him to gain access to her mouth. She tasted divine. It was like her taste was the potion that was bringing life into him. Her arms wrapped around him and her fingers laced in his hair, grasping and pulling at the roots, a sensation that was more arousing than painful. He grunted hard as her soft breasts pressed against his chest, and his hands ached to touch her nipples. But he placed one hand at her nape and wrapped the other around her waist. Thankfully, she still had her knickers on.

She pressed herself further into him and his arousal came in close contact with her flimsily covered core. His thrust was involuntary but drew a growl from him and a moan from her. He pulled away and pressed his forehead to hers.

"What are you doing to me, 'Mione?" he exhaled.

"Making you mine," she replied with a smile that was brighter than he had seen on her face in days, or months, perhaps ever.

"I am already yours," he told her while tracing a finger over her lips as her breath staggered. Heaving, he placed the pad of his hand on her neck and slowly massaged her shoulder. He could now see those pink buds begging to be touched and tasted and he gulped hard.

"Then make me yours, Ron... The whole of me..." she whispered through lowered lashes.

"'Mione..." he begged as his hand gripped her waist harder, "I..."

"Please, Ron... I know what I am saying...I... I almost lost you so many times in this last one month... We have wasted so much time while what both of us wanted was right there in front of us. Not anymore, Ron... I love you and I want to share this with you...I don't want to lose any more time when our future is coated with so much uncertainty... I want you to know everything I wish to tell you, I want to give myself to you. I want to remove any and all traces of that Horcrux from our lives..." she breathed.

"How do you know I won't hurt you?" he begged like a child seeking assurance.

"Because now it's just you and me. You'll never hurt me, Ron; you can't."

...

Hermione couldn't take her eyes off Ron. His messed up hair, unshaved face and those intense blue eyes were enough to turn her into mush on any normal day. And now, bathed in moonlight, bare of all his clothing, settled between her legs, and with a light trace of sweat glistening over that strong and scarred body, he was literally melting her down. She could hardly breathe, a part of it was fear but she would not let that show. It was crucial to bring Ron out of confining walls of guilt that he caged himself in during their closeness. Was it rushed? Yes. But who knew if they would have a future or not? Who knew when they would have a slice of peace again? He had to be told. And she needed to be marked as his, for all eternity.

She watched the pad of cotton on his midriff to ensure that their activities were not straining it. And as Ron's lust loaded eyes roamed over her bare chest, she could literally feel the blush rushing to her cheeks. The last traces of the bravado that had made her strip down to her knickers in front of him kept her from hiding her face in the pillow. Her hands, however, grasped the bed sheet tight on either side.

She couldn't wait for Ron to remove the last piece of clothing on her, but so far, he had been lavishing his attention on her pert buds and on kissing every inch of her skin. He was always good with his tongue and lips but this night was different. He wasn't just kissing her; it felt like he was literally worshipping her. She realised that the love that was floating in those blue orbs would be the death of her.

She hated the loss of his warm tongue on her nipples, but as he took her in with his eyes, she knew it would get way better. As it is, her knickers were soaking wet although they had not been touched at all so far. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he placed his hands on the side of the elastic waistband and looked at her.

"Are you sure?" he asked once again and she loosened her grip on the bed-sheet to pull his face down to her. His hardness brushed against her most sensitive parts and she drew in a sharp breath while Ron let out a growl deep inside his throat. _Sweet Salazar, he was so hard..._

"Yes," she whispered after placing a chaste kiss on his lips. "Mark me as yours, Ron," she breathed into his neck and his lips pressed into her nape as he sucked hard, surely egged on by her words. He pushed himself off her to reclaim the hold on the last bit of cloth.

"Do you mind?" he asked raggedly as if holding on to threadbare control, and she shook her head although she was not quite sure what she was agreeing to. She got her answer soon enough as he actually ripped the fabric off her and buried his face between her legs. She gasped aloud.

"Rrrronnnn..." she moaned as her eyes closed of their own accord while he lapped greedily between her folds. Her hands latched into his hair and that seemed to urge him on as a couple of his digits entered her swiftly. She whimpered and clasped the pillow with one hand while the other grasped his shoulder, hard. Slowly and almost torturously, the fingers moved out and then re-entered her, curling inside her folds. She cried and moaned and blabbered words she couldn't decipher herself, and he continued with his mouth and hands till she floated into an abyss and back.

Down from the orgasmic high and still breathing heavy, she looked at Ron and he gave her a lopsided grin that, if possible, made all the giddy with desire. And then his expression changed but she looked into his eyes with resolve. _Do it_ , she told him silently.

He took in a few deep breaths and licked his lips before holding his hard manhood in his hands. She forced herself to relax as he positioned himself just at her entrance. It was freaking her out although the sight was extremely arousing at the same time. She concentrated on his eyes, telling him without words to go ahead.

He bent lower, entering her a little more, stretching those delicate muscles for the first time and she whimpered against her own will. Placing his hands on hers and interlacing his long fingers with his, he pressed his face at her nape.

"I love you, Hermione, with all my heart... with everything I have...I am all yours, forever," he breathed and a few tears rolled out of her eyes at the sincerity of his words.

"I love you too, Ron... More than anything and everything," she replied breathing in deeply. It was hurting and she could feel he was going slow just not to hurt her. But it was hurting her more this way. She could see the massive amount of control he was displaying and she tried relaxing her muscles further to make it better for him.

He stopped just as he reached the barrier and looked up at her, in surprise or worry, she couldn't say. Perhaps both.

"Ron, don't worry... I'm okay... just...just do it quickly," _That'll hurt the least_ , she thought. "That's the best way," she told him.

"Y-You sure?" he asked and she rolled her eyes. Thankfully he took the hint. Balancing himself a little more properly on his arms and knees, he pulled himself out and she just about managed to hold back a cry.

"I love you," he told her with fire blazing in his eyes, and with his fingers gripping hers tightly, entered her in one swift motion- ripping her fine membrane, making her scream and bite into his shoulder and truly marking her as his this time.

The pain was intense, and it was only after the first spell of it died that she realised he had stilled though he was still deep inside her. The feeling was mindboggling. It ached but she wouldn't have it any other way.

"I'm okay," she told him panting slightly, hopefully convincingly enough, but she knew he didn't believe her because he didn't move. Quite possibly he wasn't sure what would hurt her more.

"Please move, Ron..."

"Y-You sure you're okay?" he asked.

"Yes, now move..." she told him and he obeyed.

"Slowly... yes...aah...Rrronnn..." she moaned as the pain slowly began to ebb away after a few thrusts to be replaced by pleasure as he began the rhythm, slowly and tenderly first and then faster on her insistence. Anything she had felt before was a mere shadow of the pleasure he gave her and she lost herself in him.

Neither of them lasted long. They came together in a mind blowing climax with their lips and arms and cores fused in each other, just how it was meant to be.

...

Later, they lay together in her bed, back in their clothes and with Ron spooning her from behind. She sighed contentedly ignoring the small ache between her legs. It had been a little tricky but she had managed to send him to fetch a tee for himself while she vanished the blob of blood that marked the pristine white sheet. The wind was slightly chill but encased in his arms she had all the warmth she needed.

"I love you," he breathed into her nape again and she smiled. She could smell him on her and realised that she could give up everything she owned to have this for life.

"I have set an alarm," she told him.

"Hmm?" he asked sleepily.

"An alarm, Ron. Surely we can't have them find out you spent the night here," she stuttered wondering if Fleur would be able to figure out what they had done.

"Relax...No one will mind," he muttered.

"Surely they will!" she retorted disbelievingly.

He sniffed sleepily and pulled her in closer, "No, they won't... They will think I was here to keep you from having nightmares,"

"What?!" she squeaked and turned around to face him.

"The first night when you were with me, you were having nightmares," he said with a soft sad sigh. She could see the pain in his eyes so she pressed her head at the nook of his shoulders as he continued.

"You were probably seeing me getting tortured. It took me a while to cool you down. I was surprised to find that no one had come running considering you were pretty loud, but Harry later told me that the three of them were right outside the door. They didn't come in because they felt only I could help you. You slept off and Fleur decided that it was best for both of us to stay together," he finished and she sniffed off a tear.

"I can't sleep without you next to me. I have tried but-" she confessed quietly.

"-it doesn't work? Same here," he replied. She looked up and smiled as their eyes met. He looked tired but happier than she had ever seen him.

"G'night," she murmured with a kiss on his lips.

...

Hermione slept off peacefully that night. Hidden in one of the drawers of the dresser were outlines of a map she had sketched. Another couple of enchanted parchments detailed out the plan. It was about time the boys were told that she knew where another Horcrux was. Ron would still have to get stronger and the Order would have to be informed to be prepared just in case. She still needed a few supplies and a more than a dozen potions had to be brewed and bottled. But the time Bellatrix Lestrange had, was slowly coming to a close. It was a dangerous mission. One that would trick their opponent into thinking that all their cards were on the table, and in a way they were. The Dark Lord would eventually know that his links to immortality were slowly being chipped off. What would he do then? Surely he would get into the hunt himself. Their only hope lay in the connection the Dark Lord shared with Harry. Hermione was hoping that he would go through his hideout locations one by one, and if Harry could enter his mind, they would be able to locate the hiding point of the last item. Then it would be a race against death himself. They needed to be prepared for it.

However, all of these came in later. The first thing to do would be finding and finishing the Horcrux, and she had a special plan for it, one which the boys would know only when it began rolling.

* * *

 ** _A/N:_**

 _Thanks to all of you for your patience and those awesome reviews. I am sorry to have kept you waiting. I hope this chapter is worth it. I know it raises some questions like, was it Ron's first time? The answer will be out in the next chapter. However, I sincerely believe in safe sex. Protection was used, just not mentioned in the narration (just like it was not mentioned how Ron lost his clothing)._

 _A response to the guest review I received for the previous chapter._

This is the first of the last three chapters. I know it took a long time coming but as I have said before, September and October are the biggest festive months for us. I highly appreciate your eagerness for this story but it is not possible for me to work on this until and unless I have some quality free time. The other story I am working on is not half as hard as this and hence it's easier for me to update it.

Additionally, I do have a real-life that needs priority and takes over my life at times. I work on this during the precious little 'me' time I have as a mother of a tot (apart from my day job and everything else). And trust me, it's rare.

With a story as complex as this, it takes me a lot of time to word it properly and keep all the loose threads tied. Moreover, it needs to be checked and rechecked multiple times to ensure it's as error free as possible. I can churn out one chapter after another in quick succession, but that will seriously impact the quality of the work, and that is something I am not ready to compromise on. It will be a betrayal to all you readers who have stuck with me so far. A chapter full of typos and other errors will not be a pleasant read no matter how good the plot. I will try putting up the remaining two chapters soon enough, but I am sorry to say, I will upload it only when I think they are good enough to fit in with the rest of the story.

 **Avid reader:** When I had planned they would do 'it' in the previous chapter, Ron's torture was not supposed to be half as bad. But then, the devil in me got carried away with his torture scene. Anyways, here they are!


	58. A Vengeful Heart

**EDITED:** This chapter is now free of the embarrassing number of typos I found once I read it again after a substantial gap of time. Also, please read the FOOTNOTE for some imported edit.

 **Edit (8th Dec'16): This is just a note to communicate to all of you that I am currently working on the last chapter and I hope to push it through by Monday. Apologies for the terrible delay, I haven't been keeping well for a while.**

* * *

 **Chapter 57: A Vengeful Heart**

Ron woke up before Hermione's alarm went off at six. Technically, he had slept for barely a couple of hours and could have done with a lot more sleep, however, the wound on his midriff had started to burn once more. He exhaled tiredly and glanced down to his chest which was acting as a pillow for a mad head of curls. The sight automatically brought a smile to his lips although the burning sensation only got aggravated further as she pressed her face close to it. Realising that he had taken on worse and that the pain was definitely worth the sight next to him, he decided to watch her a little longer before waking her up.

The sky was beginning to clear with pastel hues appearing at the far horizon and spreading all over. The tiny room now looked like a place out of a dream, showered as it was with the part light of the dawn while still holding on to the shadows of the night they had spent together.

The early morning breeze was colder, and Hermione, although fully clothed, had curled herself into a ball and was squeezed into him, drawing warmth from his body. He couldn't even grasp the amount of peace and happiness that engulfed him at the sight, let alone believe that this was indeed happening. True, that they had spent a few nights snuggled together earlier, but the pain and the effect of those sedative potions he was under back in those days had, quite possibly, taken away his ability to completely appreciate and comprehend what he had in his arms. Now, however, things were different.

He placed his arm tenderly on her cheek, tucking away a few curled locks behind her ears and just allowed his thumb to linger on her soft skin. Frazzled and exhausted though after that passionate love-making, Hermione looked like a dream. His heart ached as he watched her, the picture of vulnerability holding onto him as if her life depended on it, and he pulled her in further ignoring the pain that shot up sharper at the action. He could spend an eternity waking up like this next to her; he could take on the world to have this girl in his life.

She moved a little, and he took the opportunity to push her hair back from her shoulder to expose the skin at her neck and shoulder. A small red spot acted as the reminder of what she had given him barely hours ago. He let out a sigh, a feeling of guilt searing his insides- how wrong he had thought of her in those initial days! How much he had agonised himself and hurt her imagining all sorts of untrue things about her relationship with Krum and even Draco! He wasn't fond of the thought, but he had learned to accept that, perhaps, Krum had been her first. His heart twisted uncomfortably inside him. What a hypocrite he was! She stirred and slowly opened her eyes and his inner ramblings were pushed away on the back burner if only for a while.

"Good morning, beautiful," he said with a smile and planted a kiss on her forehead.

She blushed, something Ron found extremely endearing. Hermione was still a mystery to him. She was this young woman, a seductress, who stripped off in front of him and boldly pulled him to bed barely hours ago, and yet, she was also this vulnerable young girl who blushed at a kiss.

"Did you sleep well?" he asked, his eyes getting drawn to those pert pink lips that were parted slightly and practically begging to be captured in his.

"Yes... did you?" she asked in a shy whisper. He assumed she was remembering exactly what he was. There hadn't been much of a conversation after their love-making, and both had drifted off exhausted pretty much soon after finding a cosy position in each others' arms. And, he also assumed she was slowly beginning to realise how bold she had been. A small grin appeared on his face and she blushed harder.

"I love you," he muttered because looking at those beautiful brown orbs his brain quite possibly stopped processing anything except how breathtakingly radiant she looked.

She glowed more at his words and his heart leapt realising that this girl, the one he had been craving for all these years, was finally his.

"I love you too, Ron," she replied, and although blushing still, lifted her head up and initiated the kiss. It was like a long thirst been quenched and Ron blended into her hungrily, not wasting a moment longer to press deeper and taste her. Merlin, how had he even lived without her for so many years? How stupid he had been to deny her the first time she had confessed her feelings to him back in the boy's dorm in the Gryffindor dormitory, and deny her time and again after that...

They pulled away after a long while and not just because of their want for air; her eyes were closed and her breathing was heavy. Somewhere during the kiss, his hands had wrapped around her waist and snuggled inside her top, gripping her closer with the roughness of his palm contrasting and blending at the same time with the soft skin of her back. Her warm body pressing into him was already causing his eager manhood to press between her thighs.

Was he ready to take her again? Bloody hell, he was! But something stirred in his heart and he brought his palm that wasn't holding onto her and gently ran it across her cheeks.

"How much did I hurt you last night?" he asked, his voice husky with the want her closeness had caused and yet concerned enough. She opened her eyes, met his, and quickly looked away.

"N-Not much," she replied a little short of breath; he could actually see the crimson blush on her skin and the quivering of her lips.

" _Really?_ " he responded unbelievingly, and she nodded without meeting his eyes.

"Then why did you bleed so much?" Her shocked eyes met his and she licked her lips before taking in a deep breath.

"How did you know?" she asked surprised before realising her slip and gasping softly. "It was my first time, Ron, I-" she added in a whispered.

Ron found her lips before she could finish and felt her surprise before she willingly melted into his embrace. He closed his eyes, bringing his fingers to entwine in her curls at the base of her neck as his tongue coaxed its way into her mouth.

"Are you still hurting?" he asked after a hundred heartbeats that only made the ache to take her even worse.

She swallowed and that pause gave him the answer, sobering him up. Hermione, nodded sideways to respond in negative.

"Liar," he breathed softly and pressed his lips to her forehead.

"You mean the world to me, you know that right, 'Mione?" he spoke against her lips a moment before a sharp pain shot through his wound causing him to grip her harder, but observant as always, she pushed him away, watching his face carefully with concern marring her features.

"It's paining again, isn't it?" she asked haltingly.

"A little," he muttered managing a forced smile. Hermione wasn't fooled. She pushed his arms off her, absolutely ignoring his silent protest and clambered out of the covers and out of the bed. He wanted to pull her back, but she moved away from his range far too quickly and picked up her wand.

"It's time for dressing it," she replied in an odd voice, and without waiting for a response, rushed out.

Hermione returned soon, though. She placed the phial and other items on the dresser and reached the bed in quick strides. As Ron picked himself up to rest against the headrest, he glanced at her glowing face.

"What's wrong?" he asked, but she only concentrated on removing his shirt, and practically crimson at the face, began her work on the wound quickly.

"Hermione?" he prodded on, but she avoided him keeping herself busy with the task at hand as if purposely avoiding his eyes.

"Hey!" he called grabbing her wrist when she was done and made to move away, and finally, she looked at him.

"Ron, Harry is awake... He-" she whispered mortified, and he couldn't help but laugh out loud at her expression and relief, causing her to glare at him exasperatedly.

"Seriously, Ron!" she scowled attempting to break free but he held her on.

"What did the prat say?" he asked finally, grinning from ear to ear and wiping off tears of mirth from the corners of his eyes.

"Nothing, he just smirked and asked how you were doing. Oh, Sweet Salazar!" she moaned burying her face in her hands, but if he could guess correctly, finding it hard to hide a smile herself.

"Wanker," he muttered under his breath. "And, what did you tell him?" he asked, pulling her closer to his bare chest. Thankfully, she did not protest.

"I told him you needed dressing," she murmured and gasped again as he roared with laughter while she hid her face in his chest, this time, murmuring words he could not hear over his own mirth.

It took him a while to settle down. He couldn't even remember when was the last time he had laughed so hard or felt so less strained, physically and otherwise. It was a great feeling. He pulled her away gently to be able to watch her face. Gosh, she looked fucking amazing.

"I don't get you at all," he whispered close to her face, watching her lips unashamedly. Her breath seemed to hitch, and even without looking at her eyes, he could see the want and love radiate out of her.

"Why?" she asked in the softest of whispers.

"When I least expect it, you pull me into your bedroom and undress in front of me," he said, enjoying the effect his words had on her, and watched as the lust he felt, reflected in her eyes. They both wanted the same thing. But it was too soon, and she was still hurting, wasn't she? He buried his face at her nape and felt her body press against his chest causing his arousal to peak.

"And then again, you can barely look up at my face now," he breathed before slowly pressing his lips on her delicate skin. There was a sharp intake of breath, and as he pulled her in closer, her hands wrapped around his neck and fingers threaded into his hair. It was now his turn to moan. He inhaled deeply, allowing her scent to percolate into his being; their hearts beating next to each other in perfect symphony. He pulled her closer till there was no space between them, and yet, it didn't seem to be enough.

"I know what you did, 'Mione. I know why you did it..." he exhaled. Could he love her any more than he already did? He didn't know, but she sure deserved it so he promised himself he would try.

Hermione adjusted herself, and as their cloth covered cores touched, he let out a growl. She smiled and pulled him in for a kiss.

Ron loved the way she took control, it was as if she was marking him as hers and he gave himself up wholeheartedly.

"Don't ever doubt yourself, Ron. And don't you dare doubt my love for you or everything that is there between us," she told him after they pulled apart. "We belong to each other," she stated, holding him firmly, her smaller hands flat on his chest, nails scraping his skin ever so slightly.

"I belong to you and you, Ron, you are _mine_ ," she stressed, "No one deserves me more than you do. I doubt anyone can love me as much as you do, and I know for a fact that no one can love you as much as I love you. Do you get that, Ronald Weasley?" she asked fiercely and he nodded, smiling.

"Yeah, I get that, Granger," he smirked and pressed his lips firmly to hers.

...

Harry looked at his friends who were sitting next to each other on one of the numerous large boulders that marked the edge of the cottage's garden. The breeze from the sea blew Hermione's curls, and he grinned to himself noticing the besotted and goofy smile on his best mate's face. Ron was a total goner. The two idiots had finally come to their senses, and he was as happy for them as he could be. It was a dark world around them and occasions like these were like the tiny glimmers of light that gave hope for a better future. He thought of Ginny and turned away from the pair to focus on the rough sea and gulped down the lump of pain stuck in his throat. He didn't know if there was a resolution for him, though. He didn't know if he would live long enough to have the life he was fighting for, but he hoped his friends would have it. They had been through a lot and life surely wouldn't be so cruel to snatch it out of their fingers now.

He wondered if they ever wished to take whatever bits and pieces of peace they had remaining and leave the fight, and then, laughed bitterly at the thought. There was no walking back now, no running away and his best friends knew that. They had had a choice, but they stuck with him. As for him, he had to go ahead. They all had to go forward and fight till they made everything alright again. It wasn't really a matter of choice, and despite everything, there was nothing else he'd rather do. It was strange but he almost felt in his bones that they were getting closer, and if truth be told, it made him a little sick to the stomach. But then he saw his friends, broken and scared but smiling and most importantly still standing with him, and his resolve strengthened.

"Mate?" Ron called next to him and he turned around forcing a grin.

"Done with your snogging?" he asked on purpose, smirking when Hermione turned scarlet and Ron nervously scratched his neck. He shook his head, grinning harder. Did they know how happy he was for both of them? He guessed not.

"Anyway," muttered Ron, and as casually as he could, turned at the blushing girl.

"Why are we here in the wind, 'Mione?" he asked. Harry let out a soft breath and turned towards her too. He knew it was serious by the way she had asked them both to meet her outside the cottage. And he knew it was about time they went back to business. Ron wasn't all better, but the bloke was trying his level best to be. He practised working his muscles by exercising every morning; Fleur wasn't too happy about it and neither was Hermione. However, Bill seemed to understand Ron's urgency even if he didn't agree with it. Harry, on his part, had tried to talk to Ron, asked him to give his body a little more time to heal. But what Ron had said had cut off all arguments.

"He isn't resting, is he, mate?" he had asked. "No. In fact, they are searching us more fiercely now, aren't they? They are more prepared to kill us this time. I don't want to be the weak link that pulls you down, Harry. We can't afford to rest."

Focusing on the present, Harry concentrated on the girl, the brightest among them, sitting amidst them. He could tell she had a plan or at least some idea where to start. And, as concerned as he was about pushing her into it so soon after all that she had been through, he was also very keen to know how, and desperate to finish this journey... and if possible, go back to Ginny.

"I think I know where another Horcrux is," she confessed without preamble as if she had been holding the information in too long, and watched the two of them carefully.

"WHAT?!" asked the redhead flabbergasted. Harry realised he was feeling exactly the same.

"Where is it?" he asked and noticed something fleeting but scary cross her eyes.

"The Lestrange's house, on the outskirts of Warwick," she replied promptly, leaving no doubts in his mind that she had done her homework.

"How do you know this, Hermione?"

Harry glanced at Ron who was watching Hermione with his brows slightly scrunched together and turned just in time to notice her fumble slightly under his gaze.

"I found out," she replied confidently, though.

"How..." he questioned. Harry dropped a couple of stones that he had been playing with, and glared at Ron. _If the prat was doubting her again he would kick him in the arse..._

"I found out when we were at the Manor," she said, flinching only for a second perhaps at the memory. Slowly, she narrated how she had overheard Bellatrix's plans.

"YOU SNEAKED OUT TRYING TO SAVE ME?! I TOLD YOU, YOUR COVER WAS MORE IMPORTANT THAN THAT!" barked Ron. He had left his place on the boulder and was now towering over her. Harry noticed the angry fire light up in her eyes and decided to keep out of it if only for a while.

"THEY WERE TORTURING YOU, RON! WHAT DID YOU EXPECT ME TO DO, SIT AND WAIT TILL YOU WERE KILLED?!" she cried aloud, wiping an angry tear hastily and standing up too. Her pain was palpable as if the days in between hadn't even occurred, and they had just escaped the Manor. Harry watched Hermione's slender form shaking slightly and he realised that while the superficial wounds were on their way to recovery, the internal ones were still raw as ever. His friends glared at each other but he knew it was not out of anger as much as it was about the love they shared. And, it was painful to realise that he was an outsider to their pain. It was something only the two of them had shared and he had not been a part of it.

"FOR FUCK SAKE, YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO KEEP YOURSELF SAFE!" Ron yelled at her face but Hermione was not a witch to back down or flinch for that matter.

"REALLY, RONALD?! AND WOULD _YOU_ DO THAT IF I WAS THE ONE BEING TORTURED?!" she spat, glaring up at him and poking a finger at Ron's chest, tears still glistening in her eyes.

Suddenly, Ron was pulling her into his arms, and the next instant, he was kissing her. Harry groaned aloud; with these two he didn't even know what to expect.

He knew they both needed that, the assurance that the other was safe, and he really understood that it wasn't just a snog so he looked away. When he turned back five minutes later they were still clinging on to each other.

He was no fool. It surely wasn't their first but the first in front of him. He hadn't really thought Hermione would push Ron off, but weren't they yelling at each other just a moment ago? He couldn't even tell because her hands were now around Ron's neck, pulling him to her as she stood on her toes. He concluded they would break apart soon; surely she would hurt herself if she stood like that any longer. But Ron's arms wrapped around her and lifted her up, and he didn't know if he wanted to laugh or roll his eyes at the pair of them.

They broke apart reluctantly and Ron grinned sheepishly at him while Hermione arranged her hair, red at the cheeks. They sat down again with their fingers entwined.

Harry shook his head and grinned, trying to ease the tension of moments ago.

"Thank you for that show. Now, can we please get back to our discussion?" he inquired to the obvious mortification of Hermione and she blushed harder. Ron, however, gave a lopsided grin and wrapped an arm around her shoulder boldly.

 _Way to go, mate!_ He thought silently, smiling to himself.

"She wasn't there at the Manor on the night you rescued us, Harry. I have a strong suspicion that she went down to store it at her house that very night," Hermione managed soon, though, her demure changing quickly to steel and Ron's expressions hardening as well.

He glanced at Ron once. "What if she didn't? It could still be at the Manor," he countered.

"Yes, it could be-" she replied looking at him, clearly uncomfortable with the idea. "-but I'm guessing she would have done it at the earliest. It would be too risky to keep it out of her vault when You-know-who could come back any day and find out that she had disobeyed his orders. I don't think she'd fancy that," she finished.

"And, how do we get it?" It was Ron. Harry noticed he was gripping Hermione hard.

"We go down to the location. It should be empty," she replied.

"What if it's not? Anyone could be there. Servants or, I dunno, family? Anyway, the property would be warded," Harry argued again. Nothing was simple in his life and he no longer expected it to be. But walking into Bellatrix Lestrange's house to fetch a Horcrux after Ron and Hermione's escaped from her clutches by less than an inch of their life was a suicide mission. And he knew from his visions that Voldemort was furious with Lucius and her for that mistake; both of them bore marks of their punishment on their faces now.

Hermione was speaking again.

"Yes, but we have to take this risk. If the information from the Order is correct then they are barred from leaving the Manor after our escape. We'll never get a better chance."

"I doubt she would shift it there without any protection. That witch is barmy," added Ron, and Harry knew no matter how casual he tried to sound, Ron was not taking this lightly. The bloke had told him of his concerned only a few nights before. Ron was sure Bellatrix would target Hermione this time, something he wanted to avoid at all cost.

"I'm not saying she wouldn't have. But it's a small place and shabby. From what I've heard, it seems she likes to keep it open- you know, like a trap? She likes people entering it thinking it's not dangerous, and when they do, she pounces on them," she said shaking a little.

Harry was appalled.

"And wouldn't she do the same with us?" he asked watching between the pair. She was pressed onto Ron who was rubbing his palms over her shoulder.

"No, we have to be real quick," Hermione replied in a stronger and more determined voice than he expected.

"She'll know when the enchantments break but she won't be able to leave the Manor till her Master allows. And surely she can't casually tell him that she has placed the Horcrux there. Hence, we will get the time we need."

"Will that be enough time to search through the property?" inquired Ron. Harry was wondering the same. As much as they needed to get that Horcrux, they could not afford getting captured again. This time there would be nothing but death.

"It's not huge. In fact, it's pretty small. The Lestranges were not exactly wealthy," she provided.

"They weren't?" inquired Harry. For some reason, he always thought that the old pure-blood wizarding families were all well to do if not filthy rich. All, except the Weasleys.

She shook her head breaking his notion.

"It's true that way earlier, it was the purest houses that held the most prestigious positions in the society, as the result of which they amassed a lot of wealth. It was mostly due to pureblood supremacy that treated the half-bloods as lesser morals. I am not even taking of the Muggleborns here. But with Hogwarts accepting and even promoting wizards and witches irrespective of their ancestry and birth, the high offices began to be taken over by the more qualified instead of the more privileged. Not in all cases, and yes, preferential treatment still prevailed, but the ones who were solely dependent on their 'blood status' began to find themselves clinging on to their ancestral wealth for survival. They were simply too stubborn to move on. I guess they were used to getting the best without putting in any effort to earn it. But the stock of gold dwindled over time. And in the case of Lestranges and others like them, their involvement with the Dark Arts did nothing to boost their prospects for a job. Not like they wanted it, busy as they were fuming about how the 'lesser mortals' had taken up what was rightfully theirs. It was also a reason why they were keen on this 'New World Order'," she said shaking her head with a bitter laugh.

"Instead of trying to be better and earn all they wanted on their merit, they clung on to this rising power, who, they hoped, would bring their golden days back. It was the easier option. This murder and pillaging worked while the Dark Lord was in power, but I doubt it gave them a good life because the Dark Lord does not really care for his followers to give them free off days. But if one has a penchant for torture and all things dark, I guess it's all the incentives they need anyway.

Coming back to the Lestranges, their family once were the wealthy ones, perhaps two or three centuries ago. However, their proclivity for the dark arts dates back centuries too. By the time Bellatrix married Rodulphous, the family barely had a few trinkets and only the memories of the golden days apart from, of course, a pureblood name. Their home, as I know, was nothing but a two storied building with furniture that was antique in name but basically old dilapidated pieces of junk. Bellatrix, who was used to a fairly comfortable life before her wedding, was disillusioned soon enough. It didn't help matters that her younger sister had been wooed by the wealthy Lucius Malfoy. She was a pureblood fanatic herself, and the opportunity to join the Dark Lord's ranks became doubly lucrative. It was a way for her to fulfil what she loved anyway, and if she could rise up in ranks to be his best lieutenant, it would give her ego a boost, specifically if she could rise above her wealthy brother-in-law. And, it would also earn them a better lifestyle than her dumb husband could afford any day."

She heaved a sigh and looked away.

"During his first reign, the Dark Lord used one of our properties. But this time around, it was the Malfoys. As I have been told, the Lestranges were the only ones who used the property too. And now, once again, she is living with her sister. It does solidify my belief that the Lestrange home is no better than a rundown shack. Perhaps that also explains her eagerness to keep the Horcrux at her home, doesn't it?" she asked, and both Ron and he shrugged. It was too much information.

"How do you know so much?" he inquired.

"Some of it from my father and some from the books I have read," she replied with a hint of sadness. "F-Father didn't really like the Lestranges, and although he did support the Dark Lord, he also was a man who gave high importance to education and learning. I'm not saying that excuses his faults, though," she finished with a forced smile.

"Anyway," interrupted Ron quickly, surely to draw the conversation away.

"Let's say we manage to get this Horcrux, and even escape before they reach us. What really happens after that? She will know someone broke in. And surely, _he_ will know about the theft,won't he?" questioned the redhead, looking between him and Hermione. Harry didn't have an answer but a hundred questions himself so he looked at her too. After all, it was her plan.

She licked her dry lips before speaking. "I doubt he will get to know when we find the Horcrux. He never realised the Locket was stolen or destroyed, did he?"

He shook his head and noticed Ron grip her hand harder, his face stoic.

"I don't think he'll know unless she tells him," she continued, "And no matter how big a bitch that one is, she is terrified of him."

"But she _will_ tell him eventually, Hermione," concluded Ron ominously. "What happens when she does?"

"He will be terrifying. I hope he kills her in the fit of rage but I doubt it," provided Harry. Ron let out a dry chuckle.

"Harry will get to know," she murmured softly and both their eyes turned sharply at her.

"You are counting on it aren't you?" asked Ron voicing his own thoughts aloud.

"Y-Yes," she replied. "I think he will check out all the other locations. Perhaps even think of all of them."

"And-?" he asked almost knowing where this was going.

"And your visions will hopefully give us the last location. Perhaps even tell us what it is. If Dumbledore's calculations are correct, that would be the last one, I mean, keeping aside the one that Bellatrix has and Nagini, of course..."

"So, let me get this straight. All we have to do is, reach that last location and finish it," stated Ron with a mirthless chuckle. "And either do it before he reaches to check on it- which means, outrun him, break all the protective enchantments _and_ escape unscathed as well, _or_ , after he checks on it and perhaps moves it elsewhere, _and_ places an absurd number of additional protections over it. _Brilliant!_ A piece of cake, ain't it, Harry?"

"Do you have a better plan?" she scowled.

"No," Harry replied quickly cutting Ron's response short.

"We'll get to that bit later, but first, we break in and find this Horcrux. Then we'll have to wait for, Merlin knows, how long for her to tell him," he muttered thinking aloud.

"Yes. We have to be on the run, though, Can't get back her, too risky for Bill and Fleur," she let out a long sigh, "- but we have to first inform the Order to be on their guard. They will crack down hard, after, after we b-break in."

Silence reigned between them. It was good to know that there was a plan now. But like all their plans, it bordered on insanity and recklessness.

"However, we have to wait till Ron recovers," she said aloud after a while breaking the silence.

"Bugger! Always me to fucking slow things down," muttered Ron in an undertone.

"We need time to ensure that the rest of the Order is informed about being extra cautious," she told him.

"Yeah, whatever," responded the ginger.

"How long?" asked Harry and Hermione glanced at Ron.

"A couple of weeks," she told them solemnly.

...

They disapparated hidden under Harry's cloak and emerged behind a large old castle in the depth of the night. With the moon in the sky as their only source of light, they slowly they made their way ahead, guided by Hermione.

Ron wasn't even aware how she was doing it, but she had pulled out a parchment that looked like a hand-drawn map and was following it in the light of her wand, all happening inside the invisibility cloak. He hoped the location was correct. Hermione was sure it was as she had copied it from an old, thick book called the 'The Purest Wizarding Families' or something in those lines.

The wind bellowed outside, and he and Harry gripped the cloak harder while Hermione guided them ahead. They crossed an open field and Ron wondered if the others were as freaked out about this as he was. He wasn't worried about himself, but he _was_ worried about his best mate and the girl he loved to the point of insanity. If he had his way, he would have kept her miles away from Bellatrix, and yet, here he was, walking ahead towards the maniac witch's very own den. It felt like walking into a spider's web to him, and he fisted his fingers around the wand to cut off anxiety that hit him at the image. Breathing deeply, he looked at the other two, hoping that his muscles would not run out on him when he needed them.

"Right," she whispered next to him, and he noticed her fold and tuck the parchment inside her jeans pocket and extinguished her wand.

They turned towards an unmarked and seeming unused footpath that led into an ominous looking overgrowth of large trees. He hated these things. They usually separated a wizarding building from their muggle surroundings. Quite often these would be charmed to hurt the muggles till they saw the sense in avoiding them all together. Sometimes, like in the case of the Grangers, they were nothing but traps that maimed and killed the unfortunate souls who were foolish enough to venture in.

They moved in cautiously and when the cloak began to tangle in the branches, were forced to remove it.

"All okay?" he whispered and heard two soft 'yes's next to him. With Harry and himself flanking her on either side, they made their way ahead more slowly now. The visibility was terrible and he wondered how Harry was managing, but Hermione had warned earlier that the place around the house could be easily warded to trigger an alarm at even the slightest hint of magic, which meant even the act of lighting up their wands would start the timer on the trap they were walking into. It could easily have triggered already with their movements in its vicinity, but Hermione hoped (so did he) that the witch would not bother about a non-magical intruder at this point in time. _Or, the place could be rigged to kill them,_ he had thought but kept it to himself. If his experience with Bellatrix had taught him anything, it was that she loved to play with her prey and nothing disturbing would happen till they reached the building. As to what she planned for her uninvited guests was hard to say. She could be innovative with the curses, and for her, the more gruesome it was, the better.

Hermione stopped suddenly bringing both of them to halt as well. He looked up and noticed that they were standing feet away from a stone wall and a rusted iron gate that appeared to have never seen repairs in recent years. Beyond it, amidst an overgrown and creepy looking garden, stood a house which was definitely bigger than the Burrow, but dilapidated beyond measure. It looked ominous against the moonlit sky. Now, he was very doubtful if anyone could possibly be still living in it.

"What next?" asked Harry, and he could hear the doubt in his best mate's voice. It wasn't exactly 'small' as Hermione had said it would be. He could understand that her standards of 'small' and 'grand' were different from theirs, but if he was to estimate the time they would require to search the building and the ground behind it, from what he could see from his height, it would take them at least half an hour- using magic, of course. Did they have that kind of time? He was not sure. In fact, he highly doubted it.

"Wait," she called and he turned just in time to notice Hermione pull Harry back with a tight grip on his t-shirt, Harry's hands barely inches away from the gate.

"We have to do this," commanded the green eyed boy and Ron felt the strength of a leader emanating from him.

"Yes, we do," she replied softly but in a strange voice.

"What is it?" he asked urgently. Surely she couldn't be questioning their mission now?

She pulled Harry back and looked between them.

"Remember the place where the Quidditch World Cup was held, Ron?" she asked and he shook his head, totally baffled.

"Yeah, but-"

"Hold me tight," she told him and turned to Harry. "And hold Harry on tightly too, okay?" she told him. Harry looked at him confused and if he could guess correctly, a little annoyed as well.

Harry looked at him confused and if he could guess correctly, a little annoyed as well.

"What is –" he began but Hermione cut him short as she gripped her wand harder.

"I only need to check if anyone is inside," she replied with steel in her voice, "The moment I do that spell, the wards will trigger, and Harry, you have to guard us from anything that might result out of that trigger. _But don't let go of Ron_. Ron, be ready. You will apparate us away the moment my third spell is cast."

"I don't get it, Hermione!" fumed Harry next to him. "What about the Horcrux?!"

"Don't worry, we'll finish it. Trust me."

It clicked inside him suddenly, what she was going to do.

"And, what if someone is inside, Hermione? Will you still use the Fiend Fire?" he asked and heard Harry gasp.

"No," she replied haltingly, visibly surprised at his correct deduction. "Then I hope he will emerge out as the alarm triggers."

"You know what you are doing, right?" Harry asked.

"I do," she replied. Ron truly hoped she did.

There was no time to justify or think. She had planned this part before, he could say for sure and wondered why she hadn't trusted them with her plan. Still, he wrapped his wand arm around her waist and held Harry's left arm with his own. He felt her free hand press onto his as if drawing strength from him, and he pulled her into him further.

"Ready?" she asked and they responded in unison.

"Homenum Revelio"

The spell shot through her wand and he could feel a faint shrill cry emerging out of the house as it hit and passed through the wards.

"No one," she responded, relieved, and pointed her wand at the ground ahead of them. The shrill cry was getting louder now, and through nothing approached out of the woods as he had expected, he felt Harry grip his hand harder. His mate was prepared.

"Praesidio Mortem" she whispered, and a ring of blue escaped her wand and formed a ring encasing the property inside it. The shrill cry was starting to get unbearable now.

"Ready, Ron?" she asked.

"Yes," he replied urgently, his heart practically thudding insanely inside his chest.

"Bellua Ignis" she breathed softly pointing her firm hand at the grim, tall structure ahead, and flaming red and gold fire emerged out of her wand. It took the shape of a huge fire breathing dragon that was made of flames itself, and pounced on the house. He closed his eyes, gripping the two with all his strength and twisted on spot. He felt the heat on his skin just as a strong pull on his navel carried them away; hopefully all of them unscathed.

...

"Here," Harry called placing three cups of steaming hot tea in front of them. He looked sombre and Ron indicated him silently to keep his questions, arguments or even accusations on hold for a while.

Next to him Hermione shivered violently, and he wrapped his arms around her more firmly and handed her the cup. She wasn't crying but he knew it to be what it was, a panic attack, perhaps a bit of self-loathing as well.

"Do you hate me?" she asked shakily looking between him and Harry, and Ron watched as Harry dropped his cup with a sigh and took his place next to her.

"No," they replied in unison as Harry's hand found her other hand and squeezed it. "But you could have trusted us with the whole of the plan," he added after a pause.

"Did you think we'd stop you? Or ask you not to do it, perhaps?" Ron asked after placing a chaste kiss on the side of her head.

"I- I didn't know if it was ethical... It is o-one of the darkest curses..." she shivered, and he brought the cup to her lips after blowing on it for a while. He allowed her to take a sip before he spoke.

"You didn't kill anyone, Hermione, you made sure it was empty," he said covering her hand with his larger ones.

"And it was probably the best way to finish the Horcrux and keep ourselves safe as well, yeah," intoned Harry for which Ron was very grateful.

Hermione pulled her hand free and stared at her right palm, and even as they watched, began scrapping invisible dirt off with her other hand while her shivering intensified. Harry met his concerned eyes and Ron pulled her right hand away to stop her.

"Hermione," he called as she sniffed, all the while struggling to continue wiping traces of the evil curse away from the hand that cast it.

"'Mione?" he called again, very sick with worry now as her sobbing aggravated. He was thankful to Harry who got up and quickly plumaged inside Hermione's tiny bag to extricate out a phial of Calming Drought and poured a spoonful of it into her cup. Ron wasted no time in forcing her to drink it.

It seemed to be the longest amount of time while they waited for the potion to work. But her shivering finally settled and when she turned sideways to bury her face in his neck, Ron wasted no time in pulling her into his lap and wrapping his arms around her.

"Er... I'm taking the first watch," informed Harry and he lifted up his head, sending a silent thanks to his best mate. He waited till Harry pulled out the radio Bill had given them, and then, walked out.

Once the tent flap had been pulled down, he turned back to the girl who was clinging on to him. The fabric of his shirt was spotted with tears. Heaving a sigh, he managed to turn around with her still on his lap, and then, placing one hand under her knees and another at her back, lifted her up.

The tent was the one they had used back in the Granger Forest months ago, and he placed her down gently on the bed she used to occupy. Hermione immediately curled into a foetal position and it broke his heart to see her that way. Kneeling down next to her, he gently pushed her hair away from her face and pressed his lips to her forehead, wondering if she needed some sleeping potion too.

"Ron?" she called in a broken whisper, and he placed both his palms on her face and rubbed them gently with his thumb before he spoke. Her fingers automatically clasped around his wrists.

"Yes, 'Mione?" he asked tenderly, wondering what he could possibly do to ease her pain.

"Am I just like her?" she asked, her voice cracking mid-sentence.

"No," he replied firmly and pressed his lips to hers for a deep kiss. "Don't ever think that. You did it for-"

"-the greater good?" she chuckled bitterly and he exhaled.

"Hermione, I know it's hard but this war wasn't easy from the start. It's a bloody war for fuck sake. The only right thing here is to get done what we have to and stay alive. That Horcrux needed to be finished, and like Harry said, this was the easiest way."

"I cast the same spell that killed my parents, Ron..." she sobbed and he lifted himself up to squeeze in next to her.

"You used it for good. You know that." he replied wiping off her tears and forcing her to look into his eyes. She continued to look at him for a long time before she spoke again.

"W-When you were injured, and we didn't know if you'd make it-" she began and gripped his shirt harder, "-I-I didn't know if I'd live if something happened to you, you know?" she managed with her voice cracking again and he nodded and gently ran his hand over her arms as she gulped and licked her lips.

"I knew one thing... Bellatrix and Lucius needed to pay. Bellatrix needed to pay for taking away my parents and bringing you to the brink of death. I wanted to hurt her, take away what she loved best. And I couldn't think of anything else."

Ron listened with attention as Hermione wiped away her own tears and continued with her narration.

"There is nothing she values more than the Dark Lord and the position she holds in his circle. This seemed to be the best idea, you know?" she asked again and proceeded without allowing him to reply.

"We'd finish the Horcrux and kill the pride which she felt by housing her Master's gift in her house. And finish it with the same spell she used to kill my parents so she would know it was me. And not just that, she would also have to tell him she had disobeyed, and he would know she was the cause of one of his Horcruxes getting destroyed. That coupled with our escape would destroy her position as his best commander. Surely the Dark Lord would be furious with both her and Lucius for letting us escape even more after that, wouldn't he?" she asked, and he didn't know whether to congratulate her on her plan or worry about the amount of damage the war had done to her.

"You did the right thing," he said, promising himself that it would have to do for now. But once all this was over, he would make sure that the wounds that were clawing her insides would be taken care of first. She looked all normal, but the damage inside was deadly. And now there was guilt added to it. But despite everything, they had a war to face first. Their move had been made, and now it was time to watch the opponent for his move.

He pressed his lips to hers and found her gripping him hard, forcing her body to press against his. Wrapping an arm around her waist he pressed deeper into her in the tight space, their kiss getting more aggressive with teeth nipping the edge of the lips and hands moving inside clothes in search of bare skin.

When they broke free, she pulled the curtains around the bed down and pulled him in. Ron knew what she wanted and he paused only for a minute to extricate his wand out of his pocket. First, he fixed the curtains in place and cast a silencing charm around them, and then, pointed the wand at her abdomen, cast the spell, speaking so softly that even he couldn't hear himself.

It was as if that was all Hermione was waiting for as she swiftly removed her own top and unbuttoned her jeans. He growled deep in his throat and helped her getting the clothes off and dumped them at the edge of the bed. Getting his shirt off was easy, but his pants were a whole different story as the bed was really small to accommodate two people, but in the end, they managed somehow. Hermione was quick to rid him of his boxers and he almost collapsed on her with his full weight as her softer hands took his manhood between them and began stroking. He managed to balance his weight on his arm and pulled down the cups of her bra and placed his mouth on her buds. She moaned and arched her body up, and he licked and sucked intermittently taking the pert tips between his teeth to bite them gently. She moaned aloud, and the sound of it along with the feel of her hands on his shaft and the taste in his mouth made him go wild with desire. Hermione folded her legs at the knees, causing him to fit in better between her legs, and once he was close enough, began trying to push him inside her and made little sounds of frustration as her knickers blocked the way. She struggled below him to get the frustrating article off, but it was difficult in their entwined state. Ron simply ignored her struggles, and rather than help her, concentrated on the other breast as she clawed with her fingers on his skin for him to help. All he did was rubbed his eager manhood on her wet knickers, which he realised with a grin, both excited and annoyed her even more. She forced a hand between them to renew her attempts to be filled again, but he gripped her hand and held it over her head.

"Weasley!" she breathed in a voice dripping with want and anger and he responded by letting her nipple go and smirked at her.

"Yes, Granger?" he asked thumping against her wet core.

She moaned again and used her free hand to pull his face into hers for a demanding kiss. It was getting hard for him to hold on too. Instead of letting her wrist go, he used the other hand to move the thin strip of cloth between her legs aside and guided himself inside her soaking folds in one fluid motion. She moaned aloud at the contact, and just after two thrusts he felt her walls clamping around him as she came. He didn't slow down, though, taking her hard and fast. He didn't know if sex counted as a therapy, but it seemed to work and he was more than willing to give it a shot. She needed it at the moment. That was all that mattered.

She came again as he continued, and this, time he joined her as their love washed over them.

...

Ron placed both the mugs on the ground in front of them where Harry was prodding the fire with a stick; the radio making broken spurting sounds next to him.

"You just missed the broadcast," said his mate pointing at the device. "How is she?" he asked, picking up the cup and taking a sip.

Ron took a deep swig before proceeding to tell Harry what Hermione had told him, and after it was said, the boys stared at the merrily crackling fire, both lost in thought.

"I have been thinking," said Harry breaking the silence. "What if it's still at the Manor?"

"I have been wondering the same but, I hope for our sake and hers that it is finished," he responded.

"Was the fire in the news yet?" he inquired and Harry nodded in negative.

"No, and I haven't felt anything yet," he responded.

"But we are positive the bitch knows?"

"Should be, the wards triggered the alarm for sure."

"So either she hasn't told him anything yet or..." mused Ron and they looked at each other each thinking how it could mean two completely different things, and have serious repercussions on their plans if Hermione's estimations were proved wrong.

"So, now we wait?" Harry wondered aloud grimly.

"Yeah, now we wait," he replied.

* * *

A/N: I can't believe I am almost at the end of this story. (Though, to be honest, I didn't think it would take me so long to wrap it up.) Anyway, thanks to **jroseley** for noticing that it's been a year now. Happy Anniversary to all of you, my dearest readers, for sharing this journey with me.

I also apologise for my previous author note. I guess I was more than a little exhausted when I wrote that. I really do understand that it must get very frustrating to wait especially for the climax chapters. I hope this chapter makes up for it.

This chapter is enormous and took me a lot of time and I hope with all my heart that it lived up the expectation you had for the penultimate chapter. Hopefully, the next chapter (last one) will be out next week. Till then, I hope you will let me know what you think of Hermione's revenge. Was it justified according to you?

On a side note, I didn't cover the question of Ron's virginity(or the lack of it, **perhaps*** ) in this chapter because, although I wrote it out, it felt way too forcefully squeezed in. So, if you all are up for a smutty missing moment one-shot, let me know, I'll put it up separately.

 ***I miss one word in that bracket and the whole meaning changes. I can't believe I messed that up, all I wanted to do was keep the tone of suspense alive (I am allowed to do that as an author, aren't I?). I will upload that one-shot soon. I am not saying that he is not a virgin- just that it's a little more complicated than that.**

Thanks to each one of you for reading, and keeping me motivated all this while. Thank you from the bottom of my heart.


	59. And It All Comes to This: Part I

**A/N: The last chapter, at last.  
Thanks to each and every one of you who took the time to read this story and gave it so much love. I would have loved to give a shout-out to each one of you, but standing at 198 favourites, 278 followers, 4 community additions, and a whopping 1003 reviews and, it will be a gigantic task. I still can't believe the numbers.**

 **Quite a few portions of this and the next chapter take paragraphs from the books to keep the storyline tied to canon.**

 **For each one of you who read through this enormous piece of story, and stuck with it till the end- these last two chapters are dedicated to you. Thank you for keeping me motivated to write for a year now and finish the one story that makes me proud.  
Additionally, I am embarrassed to read through the initial chapters and see those horrible typos and errors. I am working on editing the entire work one chapter at a time. So hopefully, if you ever read it again( and those new readers I hope to get), you will have a much more pleasant read.**

* * *

 **Chapter 58: And It All Comes to This: Part I**

Wait.

That was what they had been doing for the past seven days and six nights since Hermione had burnt that bitch's home down. Seven fucking days of Apparating to different locations and setting up tent only to wrap up the next morning and flee again. Six sleepless nights between three tired and perturbed teenagers, who by silent agreement, refused to let one person take the watch. Instead, they sat together outside the tent pretending to be calm and in control, when in reality, they were barely holding on to the frayed edges of their nerves, wands at the ready and exhausted body all alert. They made up for the lost sleep during the day, but the anxiety crept into their sleep morphing images into nightmares.

The kettle whistled, a shrill and loud cry that broke through the quiet of the seventh night, and Ron promptly took it off the stove and poured the piping hot tea into three mugs. Harry's had a nipped rim after he had hit it against a rock by mistake, and his showed deep tea stains left behind by not having cleaned it thoroughly the previous time. Only Hermione's cup was totally intact and perfect, quite in contrast to her mental health. He pulled out the tin of biscuits, dug out three pieces from its depth and magiked them to double their original size. Placing them in a small bowl and balancing the whole thing on one of the mugs, he picked them up together. Finally, he walked out of the small kitchen and beyond their compact living area to the ground outside.

Harry was sitting on a boulder by the fire, turning Draco Malfoy's wand in his hand. He did that quite often, perhaps even without conscious thought. Ron reckoned the guy knew that, in the end, it would all come to this piece of wood against the most powerful wand, _in the hands of the vilest wizard on the planet_. He thought of it too, more times than he cared to admit.

"Here," he called, and Hermione looked up from the book she was reading by her wand-light. Dropping the huge volume by her side, she stood up promptly to take the biscuits off his hands. Handing Harry his cup, she took hers with a soft smile as their fingers brushed against each other. But the moment was short and she looked away just as quickly. He sat down on a large boulder while she resumed her position on the ground, the book back on her lap.

The three of them munched on the biscuit and sipped on the tea silently for a while. Harry was the first to break the silence.

"When will she tell him?" he asked no one in particular and placed his now empty cup on the hard ground roughly; a clear sign of frustration. Another chip off, Ron thought to himself silently.

"She will, mate," he responded automatically and glanced at Hermione who had paused for a brief minute; the mug an inch away from her lips. At Harry's words, she brought the mug down and wrapped the fingers around it.

"What if it was all for nothing?" she asked, words unsure and guilt etched across her beautiful features.

He didn't hesitate to drop his mug and wrap an arm around her shoulder, keeping it supportive but nothing more than friendly for Harry's sake.

"It was _not_ all for nothing. Everything we know proves that the Horcrux was there," he stated convincingly. She gave him a meek smile, understanding perhaps that he was being more optimistic than he felt. Thankfully, she chose to leave it at that.

"She will tell him, eventually." He addressed the next words to his best mate. "She is shit scared of him, and you know that, Harry."

"Are we prepared?" the bloke asked Hermione instead.

"Yes," she replied bravely. "It will take us precisely three minutes to pack up and Apparate out. I've timed it."

Harry nodded and went back to his tea.

Ron finished his drink and in the silence that ensued, and once he was done, he took to watching his companions. The two of them had dark circles around their eyes. Hermione's skin was lacklustre and pale while Harry looked like he was barely holding on to his sanity. He must look the same, he thought, possibly even worse with all those scars on his face. But he didn't care about himself as much as he did for the two next to him. Harry was the hope of this fight, the bloke needed to be fit enough to deal with the monster when the time came. And Hermione, Ron let out a shaky breath. She had endangered herself even more now, he thought as panic intensified. She had her death sentence written and signed with the last act.

The lack of activity was getting to their nerves. As far as he was concerned, confusion was all he felt. On one hand, he was glad of this time of relative peace because he didn't really know when again they would get to sit together like this once Bellatrix made that confession. He didn't know if all three of them would make out alive at all. But on the other hand, he was tired of this war and wanted it over with despite knowing that the end would certainly be pricey, to put it very lightly, that is.

Hermione had gone back to her book and was currently moving her wand in strange patterns as small wisps of light emitted out of it. It took her two more tries to get it right, post which, the wand left a strip of golden mist that floated in the space between them.

"What is this?" he asked in awe as Harry too watched the mesmerising light with a small hint of a smile on his face.

"It's a healing spell," she told them, and waved her wand to shape it like a bandage that could be wrapped around a fully grown man's torso.

"It will prevent blood loss when wound around an injury. It will also keep organs that might be injured from failing. It won't last forever though, but provide enough time for other healing spells to be cast."

"Bloody brilliant!" he exclaimed, impressed.

"Yeah, it sure is," intoned Harry.

She turned at him, and he saw sadness floating in those eyes before she looked away.

"I felt so hopeless when I saw you after our escape. I didn't know if we'd be able to take you to safety before-" she heaved, leaving the rest unsaid and he placed his hand covering her much smaller ones. "I don't ever want to feel that helpless again," she added in a quiet voice.

"You know, Hermione, you'll do fantastic as a Healer."

Hermione smiled softly as she looked at Harry at his words.

"You think?" she asked slowly, a hint of hopeful longing ringing in her words.

"Of course! You brought me back from dead," he stated and then cringed at his stupidity as her face lost whatever little colour it had. The faint hint of smile died. Ron could have kicked himself.

"What Ron means is that you did a fabulous job of getting him back on his feet. You did, Hermione. You'll be brilliant as a Healer," provided Harry and Ron was grateful to him for framing a better sentence than he had.

"Yeah, that's exactly what I meant," he mumbled apologetically, scratching the back of his neck. She returned a weak smile at him. Once again, she allowed her eyes to linger on his face, and even with no words, Ron knew, she was watching the scars that had still not dissolved.

"You'll be great, one of the best Healers ever," he told her, not breaking eye contact. "And our world will be very grateful to you for it." He wrapped an arm around her shoulder, pulling herself to him ever so slightly.

"And you can patch us up when we get back from our Auror missions."

They both turned at Harry, happy to note the smile on the boy's face. Ron grinned back too.

"Yeah, that'll be cool!"

"You guys want to be Aurors?" she asked looking between them and they replied in affirmative in unison. She shook her head exasperatedly.

"What else did I even expect?" she stated to no one in particular but Ron noticed the lingering smile.

"Ginny wants to try out for the Holyhead Harpies." Harry's voice was light but he looked away as he spoke. "She'll be brilliant," he added.

Hermione nudged him a little.

"And if she gets through, I'll get VIP tickets for the Chudley Canon matches!" he added cheerfully. Hermione rolled her eyes but smiled and Harry scoffed.

"Just wait and watch, mate. They'll definitely win the next League," he added. They all knew it was a pretend conversation; they had death to conquer before they got to that part in their future, after all. But still, it helped cheer them up and he was holding on to that. So they spent hours casually talking of other things that would happen, steering away from anything dark and gloomy, and it was the laughter that acted as their shield keeping them safe from the gloom that night.

Two nights later, however, all hell broke loose.

It began with the shattering of china and a scream from Harry. Ron and Hermione, both of whom were seated outside the tent, rushed inside at the sound to find a familiar yet frightening sight before them.

Ron knew Harry usually tried to control the pain when it came, or at least tried to hide it from them. But he also knew that there were times and situations when the fury of the Dark Lord was way too intense for him to hold it all in. This surely was one of those instances and it solidified his belief that Hermione had been right all along.

Harry was hunched low on the floor, gripping his head and yelling loudly. The two of them hurried to his side but took to sitting on their heels close to him, fearful of approaching further. Ron took Hermione's hand and grasped it. She held him back without taking her eyes away from Harry. They could really do nothing but wait.

After what felt like hours, Harry finally collapsed on the floor, his shirt soaking with sweat.

"Harry?" he called carefully and Hermione conjured a goblet and filled it with water next to him.

Harry looked up at him, panting and still breathing heavy.

"You got it, Hermione," he managed within his tired huffs. "We got the Horcrux." he finished and taking the goblet from her drank to his fill. "It's at Hogwarts, guys. He's going to check the cave first," he added while Ron helped him up on his feet.

It took them under five minutes to pack everything and a few more to come up with a quick plan. As Hermione stuffed the tiny beaded bag inside her sock, Harry pulled out the invisibility cloak and Ron dropped it over them. He gripped both their hands hard waiting for Hermione to Apparate them out. Harry's words were still ringing loudly in his ears and he squeezed her hands further, almost pulling her to his chest before they disappeared into the darkness.

" _He's furious. He'll target Hermione, Ron._ "

...

Their feet touched the cobbled ground, and before the relief of finding themselves safe (at least whole and not splinched) fully registered, however, multiple things happened simultaneously. Loud wailing erupted from somewhere close causing all three of them to grasp each other again. Hermione squeezed between the boys, glanced at each of them frightfully. They looked shaken but prepared. Just like her, they had their wands at the ready.

Dark shadows materialised around them with loud cracks. With mounting horror, she realised that they had walked right where the Dark Lord wanted them to- into his trap.

"HARRY POTTER!" yelled one of them, and she glanced at Harry while making a quick decision.

"We've got to leave!" she announced urgently and grabbing hold of the two, turned on the spot. Only, nothing happened.

"UNDER THAT CLOAK ARE YOU, POTTER?" screamed a Death Eater again, and on instinct, the three of them grabbed hold of the silky material just as the man screamed 'Accio cloak!' Thankfully the cloak made no attempt to leave them. She tried Apparating again but the air seemed to be frozen around them.

"Show yourself, Potter! What makes you think you can escape?" sneered an ugly voice before the others joined him. In the darkness, Hermione could figure out around ten shapes. There could easily be more.

"How far can you go with that crippled best mate in tow, Potter? The Dark Lord will get to you-"

"- and that bitch who accompanies you. Bet you brought her along, didn't you?" finished the first, and Hermione just about grabbed Ron who had raised his wand.

"No, Ron! You'll give out our positions!" she admonished in a whisper as Harry pulled them sideways. She grabbed and pulled Ron along with her as they attempted to get behind a row of closed shops. She didn't know how far they could go as the Death Eaters had surrounded them but standing in one place would guarantee capture. The men couldn't see them, thankfully, but she guessed they knew the approximate point where they had Apparated to. A little ahead to their left, an ugly, bodiless head of a hog hung from a plank.

"GRANGER!" called one now, and she gripped Ron harder as Harry pulled them towards the pub. She hoped he knew what he was doing.

"COME TO US, GRANGER! WE CAN GIVE YOU BETTER COMPANY THAN YOUR BOYFRIENDS!" laughed one and the others joined him. She knew they were only trying to instigate them to retaliate, and she tried yet made a fruitless attempt at Apparating them out with Ron struggling and fuming under his breath next to her. The men were closing in on them, still wary of shooting spells for some reason but blocking their escape at the same time.

"We are wasting time, call them," announced a grim voice, and although she didn't know what they meant, the fine hair on her arms rose in the foreboding of something dreadful. Sure enough, a chill began to descend on them. Letting go of her holds on the boys, she placed her hands on her ears just as the darkness rose a notch denser and the stars disappeared. But the screams that tortured her at nights got only louder in her ears while the image of a writhing, bleeding form of Ron got sharper. She pressed her knuckles to her mouth to cut out her cries as yells of her dying parents joined the cacophony. The coldness began to press in further and so did the pain- all hopes that she held on to seemed to seep out of her as the darker than darkness masses crept closer to their prey.

And then it happened.

A bright stag burst out of Harry's wand and stormed at the darkness, dissipating the Dementors and bringing the stars back. But although Harry had saved their souls, she realised with horror that the Death Eaters had finally tricked them into revealing their location. Ten spells shot at them simultaneously as Harry instinctively cast a shield charm and Ron pulled them sideways into a small alley.  
Quite a few things happened within the span of a few heartbeats. One moment they were struggling to find a way out of the dead-end alley, the very next, Harry was pulling them inside a room after being urged by a new voice. Before she could wrap her brain around the thought that it could as well be another trap, the three of them were up the steps inside a dimly lit room, and someone was arguing downstairs with the Death Eaters stating that the Patronus was a goat and not a stag. They stood huddled inside the cloak listening with their hearts thudding away as their rescuer challenged with rising temper that the Caterwauling Charm (the one that apparently stopped them from Apparating) had been triggered by his cat. It was only after many long minutes that the men seemed to accept rather reluctantly that they were inches away from summoning the Dark Lord on a false alarm. She guessed it was only the unforgiving wrath of the Dark Lord that saved them this time. It was a little ironic in fact.

Minutes past and they heard heavy footsteps of someone climbing up. Finally, their saviour appeared from the dark corner and placed whatever he was carrying on the table. He then pulled the heavy curtains shut before lighting up the candles, and Hermione finally saw his old bearded face. He looked strangely familiar and it was Harry who broke the silence after pulling the cloak away from over them.

"You are Aberforth, Professor Dumbledore's brother!"

"And you should seem to be a big fool coming here when you should definitely keep out of this place!" he grumbled before indicating the loaf of bread, a block of cheese and the pitcher of mead and asking them to help themselves.

Hermione still couldn't believe that they had escaped the Death Eaters by an inch of their lives, _again._ She drank deeply from the goblet which Aberforth had provided them and looked up to see the hazy eyes of the old man who reminded her so closely of Dumbledore. Just like his brother, he too had pulled her out of a terrible fate.

"Thank you, Mr Dumbledore," she said on all their behalf, "for everything," she added after a glance at her companions.

Both Ron and Harry looked sombre and she pushed their goblets in front of them. Harry took it after giving her a faint hint of a smile but Ron just chose to look straight at her. She saw the apology and the hurt and placed her hand gently on his much larger ones.

"It's okay, Ron," she murmured.

"No, it's anything but okay, Hermione," he replied grimly and took the goblet of mead. What did she expect? The taunts and jeers the Death Eaters had been making to get them out were still ringing in her ears; it couldn't have been easy for Ron. The Dark Lord had been expecting them and had placed a force ready at Hogsmead. And this band of Death Eaters knew she would be with Harry. But she wondered if the words they threw directly at her were part of the plan too. Surely they had heard something if not everything about their dramatic escape from the Manor. She finally turned her attention back to Harry and Aberforth.

"They have activated the Caterwauling Charm. Are you barking idiots to come here?" he bellowed in Harry's direction.

"Thank you for saving our skins there, but we need to get inside Hogwarts," replied Harry without a preamble. She could see the leader in him shine through; his conviction giving her hope.

...

Ron did not interrupt while Abberforth narrated the truth about Professor Dumbledore's dark past, the one that had been twisted by Rita Skeeter's vicious quill, but noticed Hermione wipe the corner of her eyes as the horrifying truth about Ariana Dumbledore was revealed. His thoughts, however, were elsewhere. Their narrow escape only further solidified his belief that they were up against a deadly man who expected and put in place defences to counter all their moves. It made getting inside Hogwarts and retrieving the Horcrux a daunting and nearly impossible task. With the Headmaster of the school himself being the trusted legionary of Voldemort, entering Hogwarts was like walking into a death trap inside the enemy's den. Snape hadn't shied away from killing Dumbledore, the very man who had trusted him and saved his arse for seventeen long years. The chances of him sparing them or anyone from the Order, was less than Umbridge becoming genuinely kind and nice.

But more than that, what bothered Ron was Hermione's safety. It was now, with the prospect of breaking or sneaking inside Horcrux looming large that he realised, _she_ was the one who was in grave danger, from both sides of the war.

A gasp from Hermione caused him to look up. She was staring at the empty canvas that had held a picture of Ariana; the girl seemed to have walked away. It took him a moment longer to notice what had surprised her. The girl was now coming back, walking like a long pathway extended behind her, but she was not alone.

A scarred Neville came jogging along the portrait, and when he was close enough, the frame opened sideways to reveal a door out of which the blonde boy jumped out.

"HARRY! RON!" he beamed and clasped them both with open arms excitedly.

"Blimey mate! What happened to you?!" Ron asked looking at the black eye and the other scratches on the boy's face, and Neville just shrugged.

"Carrows," he replied, "though, I am sure I look better than you, Ron. You took Bellatrix, we heard." he added solemnly and Ron was inexplicably reminded of the day they had seen Neville with his parents at St Mungo's. Neville, however, had moved towards Hermione and extended his hand, giving her a toothy grin.

"Hermione Granger! Great to see you, and with these two, nonetheless!"

"Neville, mate, she-" he began urgently but was stopped by the bloke with a wave of his hand.

"We know she is with the Order, guys. Fred and George disclosed it in their podcast a couple of days back. We were shocked, of course," he turned at her apologetically, "I mean, we knew you to be dead for two years now, but more the people on our side the better it is, especially with a brain like yours!" he added cheerfully. It was a relief how easily Neville accepted Hermione in their midst, but Ron was not naive. It wouldn't be the same with everyone.

"There will be a few more, Abberforth," informed Neville, and the aged barman grumbled under his breath as he ushered them out of the secret door. Ron entered behind Hermione who was following Neville into the narrow, damp tunnel that was lit at regular intervals with torches.

"Where does this lead to?" inquired Harry from behind him. The passage was too constricted and they walked in a file with Neville right in front, walking backwards.

"The Room of Requirements, of course! It has outdone itself this time."

They listened with rapt attention as Neville explained all about the Carrows and the new system of 'education' that was prevailing in the school, their indignation mounting at every description of cruelty Neville told them about.

Finally, they reached the other end of the tunnel; Neville pushed open the oak door and jumped into the room, and helped Hermione down. The cheer that greeted Harry and his appearance was deafening. Ron looked around in surprise at the room they had been to so very often and grinned at all the familiar faces they hadn't seen in almost a year. Soon, however, they were being pulled into hugs and thumped on the back.

"Okay, alright, give the boys some space people!" yelled Neville cheerfully, and the enormous group of people moved slightly back leaving the three of them standing in the middle next to him.

"So what's the plan?" he asked eagerly and the three of them looked at each other.

"Plan?" inquired Harry, sceptically and the crowd that seemed pumped up and ready for action seemed to deflate a little. Ron scanned the faces around them noticing several of them glancing at Hermione. He placed his hand gently on hers without looking at her.

"You are here to help us throw out Snape and the Carrows, aren't you?" The desperate hope in Neville's voice tore through him and he hoped Harry would be able to soften the blow with a well thought out reply. He hoped in vain.

"Actually, we are here to find something and destroy it," he explained. "And then we've got to leave."

"LEAVE?!"

"So you are not here to help us fight them?"

"Look, guys, this... 'thing' we need to find is going to help us defeat You-Know-Who, so in a way we are helping you fight them," he added quickly.

"What is this 'thing'?" inquired Seamus.

"Yeah, tell us, we can help you find it," added a Hufflepuff sixth year whose name he didn't quite remember.

He turned to Harry and Hermione.

"We... We don't really know what it is." Hermione's voice was low, and she held on to his hand firmly. The muttering in crowd intensified. They were watching her sceptically. Irrespective of what Neville had said, Ron could clearly see not everyone was comfortable with her presence.

"Hermione is right, we don't know what it is, but we've got to find it," intoned Harry pointing at the three of them.

"But we can tell you that it probably belonged to Rowena Ravenclaw," he declared.

"Ron!" hissed Harry.

"Really, mate! They can help us find it. No one needs to know what it is. How do you expect the three of us to search the entire castle all by ourselves? For all we know, that slimy git is already expecting us here!" he whispered back urgently.

"Ron is right." Hermione looked uncomfortable. Ron couldn't blame her. It was hard to miss the mistrust in many of those faces.

He looked at her and then turned to the assembled crowd.

"But before everything else, you all need to know that Hermione is with us. Harry and I trust her with our life," he declared determinedly. Scanning through the crowd his eyes briefly met Lavender's before he looked away.

"Ron's right," added Harry.

"It's just a little of a shock, mate. After all, her family-" interjected Ernie McMillan but left his words hanging as Ron glared at him, hard. He felt Harry's fingers press on his shoulder.

"Her home along with her parents was razed to the ground by Bellatrix Lestrange, Ernie," he stared at the Hufflepuff challengingly and swept his eyes over the rest of the crowd to get his message across clearly. "She has been in this fight with us for close to two years now. And she has saved our skins innumerable times in this last one year itself."

"And she was the one who burnt down Bellatrix Lestrange's Manor a week back."

Harry's words were met with a loud gasp that soon turned into a cheer.

"Look everyone. If Harry and Ron say she is to be trusted, she is to be trusted. Clear?" announced Neville and the group agreed in unison.

"However, I can't figure out how she escaped from the Granger Mansion? Where was she all this time?" inquired Neville and suddenly there eager ears waiting for their response. Ron looked at his best friends and Harry signalled for him to explain. Hermione nodded a little as well.

"She was pulled out of the Granger Mansions by Dumbledore and few others from the Order. Post that, she was put up in one of the Order's safehouses." He faltered for a second as he could almost feel Lavender watching him. "She was at school with us during our Sixth year," he stated and another collective gasp sounded before the group quietened quickly, undoubtedly to know the rest, so he continued.

"Dumbledore provided a secret chamber for her to stay and study in. The teachers knew but only Harry and I could access the chamber. She was there till- till the night Dumbledore passed away. The chamber collapsed upon his death, and she was moved into one of the Order's safehouses again. She has been on the run with us since last August," he finished quickly.

"Wasn't she also captured along with you?" asked someone from the crowd and he nodded in affirmative. "Yeah, and it was just her brains that kept me alive till Harry came to our rescue."

"Wh-"

Whatever question Cormac was going to ask was left hanging as the door to the tunnel opened again and Fred and George entered followed by Ginny, Luna and Dean. Amidst the fresh cheers, his brothers and sister ran to him and pulled him into a bone-crushing hug. They pulled Harry and Hermione in too.

"We thought we almost lost you!" cried Ginny pushing the twins and getting a firm hold on him.

"Mum was a wreck when Bill came down. Kept swearing she saw your needle in the clock hover between 'Mortal Peril' and 'Dead'," provide George sombrely.

"We just had to tell her that she was imagining it," added Fred.

"Thank goodness, she never saw it stick to 'Dead' for a solid few minutes while she was busy getting the potion Bill had come to fetch for you." Ron realised he had never seen his siblings so terrified ever before.

"Yeah... it was a little nasty, but-" he scratched the back of his neck, his ears uncomfortably warm, and pulled Hermione closer, "-Hermione, and Fleur, of course got me out of that shit."

Ginny literally flew past him and grabbed Hermione. If he didn't know better he would say the two girls would soon be sobbing. But, both he knew, were ferociously strong women, and any tears they wanted to spill remembering the horrors of that night would be shelved away for later.

The door opened again and Lee Jordan and Oliver Wood joined them followed by the rest of the old Quidditch team and the cheers got louder and fiercer.

"So where were we?" screamed Neville to get the attention of everyone as Harry briefly explained what they were looking for. Surprisingly it was Luna who answered. As Harry and Luna left under the cloak soon after to see what this 'diadem' thing actually was (and hopefully find it hidden in the Ravenclaw Towers, perhaps?), Ron and the rest of the gang got together planning as more and more members came through the door. He was amazed at his Mum's eyesight when she entered the room and after scanning the room only once, met his eyes and rushed up to him. He looked around for Hermione, but she had disappeared into the crowd.

...

"So it was you."

It was not a question, merely a declaration. Hermione looked at the curvy girl remembering the hatred she had felt for the Gryffindor once. It felt like a lifetime away.

Lavender was slightly taller than her, had a fuller figure and silky straight hair that reached her waist. Hermione realised that if she and Ron hadn't gone through so much together, she would perhaps be still a little wary about this woman. Even with the hard year at Hogwarts and the dark circle around her eyes, the woman was still a beauty.

"I-" she began, not quite sure what her answer should be; if Lavender expected any response at all.

Brown simply shook her head and laughed a little softly.

"I would have never guessed it was you, Granger," she said as Hermione shifted her weight from one leg to the other uncomfortably.

"I don't wish to make you uncomfortable, Hermione. It's just that- " she turned and Hermione followed her gaze to notice Ron's tall form next to Molly's. The plump witch was patting her son's cheeks and wiping her eyes alternating as Arthur stood next to them watching his son. Even from this distance, Hermione could see the immense pride on his features. She smiled at the sight before turning back at Lavender.

"-never mind," Lavender added after a pause. "You look different, though," she observed. "Very different from how we remember you. He does too."

"Hermione!" Ginny called from somewhere and Hermione silently blessed the girl.

"See you, Lavender," she said, forcing an uncomfortable smile.

"See you too, Hermione," she replied but called her back once more.

"Hermione?" Hermione turned to find Lavender look at her with a strange sort of an expression. It wasn't exactly jealousy; defeat perhaps was more accurate, and she felt guilty again, on behalf of both Ron and herself. The poor girl had been caught between the mess that was Ron and her life at that point.

"When he came to me, he was searching for something. I figured it soon enough that whatever he was looking for, I wasn't the answer." She let out a bitter chuckle. "Did it hurt? Heck, it did," she sighed. "But now I know he was searching for you."

"Lavender, look...," she began realising that they owed this girl some sort of an explanation. "We were in a very bad place around that time. But, if it's any kind of solace, we weren't seeing each other." Hermione paused. How strange was it to say that she was seeing Ron now? Their relationship seemed so very different from that of a normal couple. But if anything, it seemed way stronger.

The two young women looked at each other for a while before Lavender smiled, a genuine one this time.

"This is uncomfortable, isn't it?"

"Yes," Hermione replied honestly and let out a chuckle.

...

The next hour was a blur. All Hermione remembered was the shouts of 'Hermione Granger!' and 'Oh my God, is that Ron Weasley?' as she made her way towards the Great Hall. She supposed it would be terrifying to see someone they all knew to be dead for a couple of years now.

"Ignore them," Ron muttered in her ears and pulled her along as they made their way along with the others.

The enchanted ceiling of the Great Hall was dark and scattered with stars, and below it, the four long House tables were lined with dishevelled students, some in travelling cloaks, others in dressing gowns. Here and there shone the pearly white figures of the school ghosts. Every eye, living and dead was fixed upon Professor McGonagall, who was speaking from the raised platform at the top of the Hall. Behind her stood the remaining teachers, including the palomino centaur, Firenze, and the members of the Order of the Phoenix who had arrived to fight.

"...evacuation will be overseen by Mr Filch and Madame Pomfrey. Prefects, when I give the word, you will organise your House and take your charges in an orderly fashion to the evacuation point."

Many of the students looked petrified. Hermione couldn't blame them. She remembered the night at the Grimmauld Place when she had almost had a panic attack realising she was in the heart of the war.

The guy called Ernie Macmillan stood up at the Hufflepuff table and shouted; "And what if we want to stay and fight?"

There was a smattering of applause.

"If you are of age, you may stay." said Professor McGonagall.

"What about our things?" called a girl at the Ravenclaw table. "Our trunks, our owls?"

"We have no time to collect possessions," said Professor McGonagall. "The important thing is to get you out of here safely."

"Where's Professor Snape?" shouted a girl from the Slytherin table, Mariana Picket, Hermione recalled.

"He has, to use the common phrase, done a bunk." replied Professor McGonagall and a great cheer erupted from the Gryffindors, Hufflepuffs, and Ravenclaws.

"Where the fuck is Harry?" mumbled Ron next to her and craned his neck to look towards the entrance. "Finally!" he called and pointed towards their friend who moved up the Hall alongside the Gryffindor table.

"He is looking for us, Ron," she said and Ron waved. It was hard to say if Harry noticed because as he passed, faces turned in his direction, and a great deal of whispering broke out in his wake.

"We have already placed protection around the castle," Professor McGonagall was saying, "but it is unlikely to hold for very long unless we reinforce it. I must ask you, therefore, to move quickly and calmly, and do as your prefects -"

But her final words were drowned as a different voice echoed throughout the Hall. It was high, cold, and clear. There was no telling from where it came. It seemed to issue from the walls themselves. Like the monster it had once commanded, it might have lain dormant there for centuries.

" _I know that you are preparing to fight."_

There were screams amongst the students, some of whom clutched each other, looking around in terror for the source of the sound.

 _"Your efforts are futile. You cannot fight me. I do not want to kill you. I have great respect for the teachers of Hogwarts. I do not want to spill magical blood."_

There was silence in the Hall now, the kind of silence that presses against the eardrums, that seems too huge to be contained by walls.

 _"Give me Harry Potter,_ " said the Dark Lord's voice, " _and they shall not be harmed. Give me Harry Potter and I shall leave the school untouched. Give me Harry Potter and you will be rewarded. You have until midnight._ "

The silence swallowed them all again. Every head turned, every eye in the place seemed to have found Harry. Then a figure rose from the Slytherin table and she recognised Pansy Parkinson. The girl Hermione never liked much raised a shaking arm and screamed, "But he's there! Potter's there. Someone grab him!"

Before Harry could speak, there was a massive movement. The Gryffindors around them and herself had risen and stood to face, the Slytherins. Ron looked mutinous. Then the Hufflepuffs stood, and almost at the same moment, the Ravenclaws, all of them with their backs to Harry, all of them looking toward Pansy instead. It seemed like almost a well choreographed moved as wands emerging everywhere, pulled from beneath cloaks and from under sleeves.

"Thank you, Miss Parkinson," said Professor McGonagall in a clipped voice. "You will leave the Hall first with Mr Filch. If the rest of your House could follow-"

Slowly the four tables emptied. The Slytherin table was completely deserted, but for one girl who stood behind. A younger version of the girl pulled at her arms, but that familiar pair of grey eyes was locked on Hermione's face. Hermione moved away from the Gryffindor table and walked almost in a trance towards her house table. Tears pricked her eyes. She got closer to Daphne who smiled despite the steady stream of moisture that ran down her cheeks.

"Herms?" she whispered softly and that was all it took. Hermione ran towards her best friend and the girls enveloped each other in an embrace, both sobbing uncontrollably.

The students were still filing away and Hermione knew she had barely a few precious minutes before Daphne had to leave too.

"I never... I couldn't believe they-" Daphne was trying her best to put words but her tears were making the task very difficult.

As much as Hermione wanted to share everything with her oldest best friend, she knew this wasn't the time or place.

"I never thought I'd see you either," she replied clutching her friend's hand. "But Daph, you've got to get out of here now." She looked at Astoria, the younger girl and addressed the next words to her. "Make sure you girls leave quickly."

"But, Herms! What about you?" countered Daphne incredulously.

"Me?" she smiled a little sadly. "I can't run from _this_ , Daph." She indicated the commotion-filled hall. "This is my battle too."

"But Hermione-"

"Mione?"

Hermione turned to Ron as Harry joined them. "They must leave. The Order is making battle plans. We've got to go," he said extending his hand. She took it before turning around to face her friend again. Daphne looked surprised but let out a small chuckle.

"I see you found your place, Herms," she said and turned to Ron. The hall was almost empty, the last of the Ravenclaws filing out.

"Take care of her, Weasley, won't you?" she added before joining her sister and running out of the hall.

...


	60. And It All Comes to This: Part II

**A/N: I have posted two back to back updates. Please Read Part I first.**

* * *

 **Chapter 58: And it All Comes to This: Part II**

Ron watched unseeing as George and his mother wept over Fred's inert body. Ginny was sitting on the floor wrapped in Hermione's arms who herself had tears running down her grime and blood stained face. He could not process what was happening anymore, or feel for that matter. He glanced around at the Great Hall, the place that always brought memories of food, friends, warmth and security. Not anymore, though. Ron wondered if he would ever forget the scene that was spread out in front of him. Spell hit walls, blood-stained floor and inert bodies of people they had once laughed and joked with. Even the ones that were alive were all battle worn, bruised and bleeding being tended by the school nurse and a handful of students.

 _Just the snake,_ he told himself fiercely staring hard at the face of his dead brother.

Voldemort had snatched enough from them but no more. The Diadem was already finished, killed by the moron Crabbe and his uncontrolled Fiend Fire. Harry perhaps pitied the bloke's death, Ron did not.

 _Just the bloody snake,_ he repeated to himself while wiping off the tears that flooded his eyes. They get that blasted reptile and Harry would be closer to ending this all.

He turned at the entrance again wondering how long Harry was going to take to see the memories. Ron had no clue what the slimy Potion master wanted to tell Harry, but if he thought of the man's last moments, he couldn't help feel that there was something crucial they had missed so far. He only hoped it would help them, especially now that their forces were weaker. He pushed the thought aside. The hour was almost up, the battle would soon resume.

The voice echoed out of the walls again in a blood curling tone. But this time there was an unhealthy cheer to it.

 _"Harry Potter is dead. He was killed as he ran away, trying to save himself while you lay down your lives for him. We bring you his body as proof that your hero is gone. The battle is won. You have lost half of your fighters. My Death Eaters outnumber you, and the Boy Who Lived is finished. There must be no more war. Anyone who continues to resist, man, woman or child, will be slaughtered, as will every member of their family. Come out of the castle now, kneel before me, and you shall be spared. Your parents and children, your brothers and sisters will live and be forgiven, and you will join me in the new world we shall build together."_

"HARRY!" he yelled frantically scanning the hall and ran with dread mounting. He was just behind the Professor McGonagall as they all jostled out to the open grounds.

"NO!" screamed McGonagall and Ron almost felt like the ground had slipped from beneath his feet. The battle was over. Everything they had been fighting for, their hope, their leader- his best mate, his brother was now lying dead in the arms of a sobbing Hagrid.

"NOOOOO!"

"NO!"

"Harry! HARRY!" He bellowed aloud forcing the pain out as Hermione and Ginny joined him in front of the crowd. Harry couldn't die.

"SILENCE!" cried Voldemort, and there was a bang and a flash of bright light, and the silence was forced upon them all. "It is over! Set him down, Hagrid, at my feet, where he belongs!"

Ron tried to scream, yell obscenities, but his tongue wasn't cooperating.

"You see?" said Voldemort, striding backwards and forward next to where Harry's body lay. "Harry Potter is dead! Do you understand now, deluded ones? He was nothing, ever, but a boy who relied on others to sacrifice themselves for him!"

"He beat you!" yelled Ron, pulling all his strength and the charm broke, and the defenders of Hogwarts were shouting and screaming again until a second, more powerful bang extinguished their voices once more.

" _Ronald Weasley_? And who do I see next to you, _Hermione Granger_?" hissed Voldemort dangerously. Ron grabbed Hermione's hand firmly in his.

"Your friend was killed while trying to sneak out of the castle grounds," said Voldemort, and there was a relish in his voice for what he hoped with all his might was a lie. "killed while trying to save himself - "

"You lie! Harry would never do that!"

Voldemort turned to Hermione almost leisurely and Ron's eyes moved past him to the women next to him. She was watching them with eyes in slits, immense hatred flashing in her maniacal features.

"Bellatrix, you did a poor job of breaking them. I expect better this time." Voldemort responded in a slow hiss while stroking Nagini's head.

"With pleasure, My Lord," she responded, not once taking her eyes off Hermione.

"Both- not just him, I don't need her anymore. You are free to play your games." he breathed. But Voldemort broke off: there was a scuffle followed a shout. Neville, scarred and bleeding, walked right in and charged straight at him.

But before the Gryffindor could do more than lift his wand, a spell hit him and he collapsed on the ground, disarmed.

"And who is this?" Voldemort said in his soft snake's hiss. "Who has volunteered to demonstrate what happens to those who continue to fight when the battle is lost?"

Bellatrix gave a delighted laugh, finally looking away from them. Ron, however, watched the snake. It was out of the protection.

 _Finish the last Horcrux and Voldemort will be a mortal again._

He watched his best mate's inert figure at Voldemort's feet and forced himself to breathe. He would not let Harry die in vain. How could he retrieve the sword without anybody noticing? He heard the disgusting crackle of Bellatrix Lestrange and saw the Sorting Hat had flown down to Voldemort. All the while, he fought to rid himself of the body bind that secured his arms to his sides, putting all his strength and energy into overthrowing the charm.

Voldemort pointed his wand at Neville, who grew rigid and still, then forced the hat onto Neville's head, so that it slipped down below his eyes. From the corner of his eyes, he noticed many from their side were making similar attempts. Urged by hope and pain, he tried harder, the spell broke and he pulled his wand out as many others did the same. But the Death Eaters raised their wands too, holding the fighters of Hogwarts at bay.

"Neville here is now going to demonstrate what happens to anyone foolish enough to continue to oppose me," said Voldemort, and with a flick of his wand, he caused the Sorting Hat to burst into flames.

Screams split the dawn. Neville was a flame, rooted to the spot, unable to move.

And then many things happened at the same moment.

They heard an uproar from the distant boundary of the school as what sounded like hundreds of people came swarming over the out-of-sight walls and pelted toward the castle, uttering loud war cries.

At the same time, Grawp came lumbering around the side of the castle and yelled, "HAGGER!". His cry was answered by roars from Voldemort's giants: they ran at Grawp like bull elephants making the earth quake. Then came hooves and the twangs of bows, and arrows were suddenly falling amongst the Death Eaters, who broke ranks, shouting their surprise.

Amidst all the confusion Ron and Hermione moved ahead, and Neville moved too.

In one swift, fluid motion, Neville broke free of the Body-Bind Curse upon him; the flaming hat fell off him and he drew from its depths something silver, with a glittering, rubied handle – How the sword went from Hermione's bag to inside the hat, Ron didn't know. But he realised it was supposed to present itself to a worthy Gryffindor in need.

The slash of the silver blade could not be heard over the roar of the oncoming crowd or the sounds of the clashing giants or of the stampeding centaurs, and yet, it seemed to draw every eye. With a single stroke, Neville sliced off the great snake's head, which spun high into the air, gleaming in the light flooding from the entrance hall, and Voldemort's mouth was open in a scream of fury that nobody could hear, and the snake's body thudded to the ground at his feet-

Chaos reigned.

The charging centaurs were scattering the Death Eaters, everyone was feeling the giants' stamping feet, and nearer and nearer thundered the reinforcements that had come from who knew where. But they were fighting back. Winged creatures soared above the heads of Voldemort's giants, Thestrals and Buckbeak the hippogriff scratching at their eyes while Grawp punched and pummelled them and now, all of them, defenders of Hogwarts and Death Eaters alike were being forced back into the castle.

The centaurs and the Hogwarts' elves, and the families living in Hogsmeade joined in, the Death Eaters were now on the back foot, terrified and shocked at the ever growing number of attackers.

This could be their final battle and it mattered less now if they lived or died. What was imperative here was to fight till the end and, just in case they couldn't make it, take as many they could with them. Ron shot spell after spell at the enemy, scooting and swerving away from green spells while red and gold jets burst out of his wand, scanning the crowd whenever he could risk it to locate Bellatrix. He remembered every dangerous spell that Hermione had researched and thought of Harry's dead body before he shot them at the men. Perhaps hatred and pain intensified the power of the curses? He didn't know, neither did he care.

Neville joined him and together they took Fenrir Greyback down, the ugly heavy werewolf skidding across the marble floor covered in his own blood.

Then he saw something that almost made his heart stop.

Bellatrix was still fighting, barely fifty yards away from Voldemort, and like her master, she duelled three at once: Hermione, Ginny and Luna, all battling their hardest, but Bellatrix was equal to them. She laughed as she duelled and as he watched a green spell shot dangerously close to Ginny. He pushed and ran ahead and in that time, Bellatrix threw away Luna and Ginny who tumbled. For a second he almost froze, but then, both the girls stirred and forced themselves up and he turned around to notice Bellatrix duelling Hermione alone. Hermione was just holding on battling the hardest but still on the defensive.

"Granger!" spat Bellatrix maliciously. "Where is that pile of shit you took away from the Manor?"

Ron rushed and joined, pushing Luna and Ginny aside, and now it was the two of them against Bellatrix. He had an epiphany that she did not intend to finish them the easy way.

...

Harry watched in horror as Ron and Hermione battled Bellatrix Lestrange. It was hard to miss the hatred leaching into her maniacal features and he stopped in his dash towards Voldemort to rush towards his friends instead.

"You lied to us for this filth?!" she roared, and Harry struggled to pass through the duelling bodies to get closer, wary of shooting spells lest he hurt someone from his own side.

"Guess what? I'll kill one of you and leave the other to die of heartbreak! I sure have better use of you, Granger," she laughed and raised her wand.

"Or perhaps I'll keep the boy alive to finish what we left incomplete?"

She easily flicked away two simultaneous Stunning Spells before posing her wand.

" _AVADA_ -"

...

The decision was made long ago really. Ron saw the intent in her eyes and he did what he knew he would do in a heartbeat for her any day. He didn't know who the Killing spell was aimed at, but he knew he would die a thousand times to save Hermione, even if it was the last thing he did. It was a choice between killing Bellatrix and saving Hermione, possibly it would come to the same thing in the end. But if he could hold the bitch for a while more, Hermione would get that opening to defeat the witch who had taken everything from her. With all the strength he had left, with all the love he felt for Hermione and all the pain he felt losing his best mate and brother, and most importantly with all the determination to keep Hermione safe combined in a single moment, he cast the strongest Shield Charm he possibly could.

...

Hermione looked at the woman she hated beyond all. The duel so far had proved that Voldemort's commander-in-chief was a master duellist: And once that curse was cast, it would kill one of them.

Bellatrix could kill Ron- finish the task which had been left unfinished in the Manor.

The curse could be aimed at her too. But Hermione could take that for Ron. And if it all came to this one moment before she died, she would use it to save Ron: even at the cost of her life.

She poured all her love for him in the Shield Charm that shot out of her wand, the only thought in her mind: _keep Ron safe._

...

"- KEDAVRA!"

Harry watched as time almost stilled. Two golden spells, shot out of two different wands joined midway turning into an almost flaming golden torch and created one powerful golden shield guarding Ron and Hermione against the woman who had tried killing both of them at some point. He thought every dueller paused in shock and awe, but Harry couldn't risk taking his eyes off them.

"WHAT IS THIS?! " Bellatrix Lestrange screamed, confused, and cast another Killing curse.

The green jet shot out of her wand and hit the barrier, denting it but unable to break it. The protection which glowed even brighter at contact sprang back, and Harry realised that he was seeing the power of sacrifice right in front of his eyes. The green jet raced back towards the person who cast it. There was a moment of horrified realisation in Lestrange's eyes before she dropped dead.

Voldemort screamed and with one powerful spell the three who were duelling him were thrown away.

Harry felt as though he turned into slow motion: he saw McGonagall, Kingsley and Slughorn blasted backwards, flailing and writhing through the air, as Voldemort's fury at the fall of his last, best lieutenant exploded with the force of a bomb, Voldemort raised his wand and directed it at Ron and Hermione.

"Protego!" roared Harry, and the Shield Charm expanded in the middle of the Hall, and Voldemort stared around for the source as Harry pulled off the Invisibility Cloak at last.

...

Ron lay silently in his bed in the Gryffindor Tower. He didn't feel like talking or crying. He didn't feel anything, couldn't perhaps.

At some point, Harry came back and lay down on his bed. Both the boys glanced at each other for a silent minute before turning away.

The war was won. They had achieved what had seemed impossible. He had thought he would be happy, exhilarated even. But emptiness was all that he could decipher. He thought of Fred, and Remus, Tonks and Collin. He thought of the hundred lifeless bodies that would go back from Hogwarts in coffins and his struggled to breathe.

"Ron?"

Ron looked up at her face and she sat down next to him. He scooted towards the wall to give her some space. She placed a tender hand on his cheeks and he closed his eyes at her touch, allowing the accumulated tears to roll down. Hermione discarded her shoes and pulled her legs up; he instinctively pulled the curtains closed. Once inside she lay over him with her head on his chest. After a while, he felt his t-shirt soaking. Still not feeling like speaking, he tangled his fingers in her hair, pulling her in closer, feeling a sigh escape her. She lifted her face and met his eyes with her own teary ones.

"We got through this, we'll get through what lies ahead too," she promised before pressing her lips against his. They cried through the kiss, Ron sobbed as he pulled her into his arms, adjusting himself to press his face at her nape and she pulled him in closer while wrapping her arms around him in a tight embrace.

"We'll be okay." She told him and Ron knew they would.

* * *

 ** _A/N: That brings us to the end of this story. I feel an immense sense of accomplishment as I write this because there were many occasions when writing this got very tough. But thanks to all of you and your encouragement and reviews, I did complete it. I will start the sequel as promised, but perhaps only by end of Jan, after I wrap up the plot in my head._**

 ** _Wish you all a Very Happy 2017!_**


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